


Shelter

by dizzy



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:25:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glee Kink Meme fill: "I would like a fill where Blaine is like a step dad or adopted dad for Kurt (some sort of parental role but not like actual dad) and he and Kurt end up in a consensual sexual relationship and perhaps something a bit more...? "</p><p>Consensual sexual relationship between a seventeen year old and his 32 year old foster parent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**thirteen.**  
 _kurt_

Kurt is eight when his mother dies, and ten when his father has a heart attack. 

He survives the first one, but not the second barely a year later. 

He's eleven when he gets put into foster care. He spends the most miserable year of his life being mocked and ridiculed by his foster siblings, having his things stolen, his clothes ruined, everything about him picked apart. He's in a new school district and no one wants to be friends with the chubby-cheeked boy that sounds like a girl and enjoys craft time more than kickball at recess. 

Kurt knows that no one is going to want to adopt him. He knows that he's not the kind of kid anyone wants. 

He's a freak. 

He's a fag. 

He'd be better off dead. 

* 

When a sixteen year old with a snarly attitude and a serious case of homophobia breaks his wrist and three of his ribs, Kurt is transferred out of that foster home. He spends a few weeks at a facility until they locate another home for him. 

He likes his caseworker at least. Her name is Abby. She's older, and kind, and seems to try really hard for him. 

"We have a new home for you," she says. "You'll be the only child there. He's requested that someone be placed with him that has difficulties fitting in but not violent tendencies, and - I think you could fit well there, Kurt. He's a very kind man." 

Kurt is still wary. Everyone is kind of the case workers. How they are when the doors are closed and they're alone is a different story. "I can call you if he hurts me?" 

"Of course. Any time, day or night," Abby swears. She reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. "Would you like to meet with him?" 

Kurt shrugs. It's not like staying here is any better. 

* 

"I'm Blaine Anderson." He doesn't try to shake Kurt's hand, since his wrist is in a cast. 

He's possibly the most handsome man Kurt has ever seen. His hair is dark and slicked back, his eyes and warm and inviting, and the polo shirt he's wearing clings to his biceps in a way that Kurt just wants to stare at forever. 

Kurt blushes and that kind of pisses him off, so he tilts his chin up and says in the haughtiest voice he can manage. "Kurt Hummel." 

"Well, Kurt Hummel, it's nice to meet you." Blaine sits down on the couch in the small visitation room. He rests his hands on his knees and leans forward. "You want to tell me about yourself?" 

"No," Kurt says. He doesn't see the point. "You know you didn't have to meet with me. If you said you wanted me, they'd have stuck me in a car and it would have been done." 

Mr. Anderson frowns. "I want it to be your choice, too. If you don't think this will work, I wanted you to have the option to say no." 

"Why?" Kurt asks, curiosity winning over contempt. 

"Because... uh." Blaine gives him a smile. "Because I'm gay, and I know that you might come from a background that says that's wrong. I really want to be able to foster a kid - you - and you give you a better life than you have right now, but I want it to be a good fit for both of us." 

Gay. Blaine Anderson is _gay_. 

Kurt gets up and walks out. 

* 

Abby comes to see him later that night. She sits on the edge of his bed while he's at the head of it, knees tucked in against his chest and arms wrapped around them. "So that wasn't a good fit?" She sounds remorseful. 

Kurt shrugs and doesn't say anything. 

"Can I ask why?" Abby says. 

Kurt might only be thirteen but he knows how to connect the dots. Abby thinks he's gay, so she wants to put him in with a gay foster dad. He feels like someone is playing a mean joke on him. What if he's not even gay at all? He can't be gay. His dad wouldn't want him to be gay. But Abby thinks he is. Just like all the other kids at school. 

"Kurt," she says gently. "You don't have to tell me why, but I'd really appreciate it so I know what to look for when I move forward and consider other families for you." 

His stomach turns unpleasantly when she mentions other families. At least at the facility there are plenty of authority figures around. None of the other kids are nice to him here but as long as he sticks close to one of the adults no one can beat him up. 

If he goes into another home, it could be just like the last one. 

He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to be here. But it's not like he has another option. His parents are dead and he has no other family. Disappointing the memory of his father hurts, but it's a different kind of pain than broken ribs and a fractured wrist. 

His dad wouldn't want him hurt, either, would he? 

"I'll go with him," Kurt says, voice shaky because he's so close to crying. He won't cry in front of her though. He doesn't cry in front of anyone. "I want to go with him." 

"Oh." She sounds surprised. "Oh, Kurt - Kurt, I think this is for the best, really." She reaches out and pats his knee. She's the only person that ever touches him. Sometimes he wants to just throw himself at her and hug her hard, like he used to do to his mother. But she's not his mother and he's one of dozens of kids that she deals with, because that's what she gets paid to do. 

He lays down and faces away from her. She takes the hint. "I'll call him in the morning and let him know." 

* 

The system moves fast when they're freeing up a bed. 

Two days later he's in Abby's car with his two carefully packed suitcases in the back seat. Abby keeps up a steady chatter of conversation but Kurt doesn't bother to respond to any of it. 

His stomach hurts and he just wants to get this over with. 

* 

Mr. Anderson is waiting for him on the porch. He has jeans, a cardigan, and a bowtie on. Kurt is embarrassed at his own t-shirt and jeans. He doesn't really get any money, ever, and he's stuck with the clothes they give him. Besides the bullying, it's his least favorite thing about being in foster care. That and the way his skin is always oily lately, no matter how many times he washes with tepid water and store brand face soap. 

Kurt thinks that Mr. Anderson probably uses really good stuff to wash his face. Maybe Kurt can dig through the garbage and find some left once he's thrown a bottle away. The thought makes him happy. 

Mr. Anderson talks to Abby briefly, who has to go. Kurt wishes he could ask her to stay but she's got other appointments, too big a workload to give him much more time than she has. She smooths his hair back and wishes him luck, reminds him that he can call her any time. 

It almost doesn't hurt to watch her drive away. "Come on," Mr. Anderson says, taking his bags. "I'll show you to your room." 

"Is there a lock on the door?" Kurt asks. 

His last home didn't have locks. He barely slept for months because they'd sneak into his room and try to take his stuff. 

"Of course." Mr. Anderson looks surprised. "You've got as much privacy as you want, Kurt. This is your room." 

Mr. Anderson shows him quickly around the house, narrating the tour to explain which door is Kurt's bathroom and other helpful tips, then they're at the bedroom. 

It's nice. It's definitely nicer than his last foster home or the facility. There's a navy and charcoal bedspread on the bed, navy pillowcases and charcoal sheets folded down perfectly. There's a full length mirror and a decently sized closet (certainly bigger than he needs for his five t-shirts and two pairs of jeans) and a tv and a bookshelf half-full of books. 

"Once you get settled in, we can head to the store and you can pick out some stuff for you," Mr. Anderson says. "I'll leave you alone to unpack, I'm sure you want to explore." 

He seems nervous, more nervous than Kurt is. Kurt doesn't say anything. He doesn't even turn around until he hears the door close. 

*

Kurt stays in his room for five hours. 

He'd already planned on avoiding Mr. Anderson as much as he could, but the truth is - he likes the room. He likes it a lot. It's peaceful and it looks like a room with personality, or at least one with potential for personality. It's nothing like what he's used to and he never wants to leave it.

Mr. Anderson eventually knocks on the door, calling out, "Kurt?" 

Kurt opens the door with a cool, "Yes?" 

"I just - you must be hungry. I thought we could order pizza, since it's a little late for the store. Going tomorrow might work better, though. We can make a day out of it." Mr. Anderson gives him a bright smile. It makes his eyes scrunch up and he looks older like that. 

Kurt wonders how old he actually is. Not as old as Kurt's dad, probably; twenties, maybe? Thirties? Everyone past eighteen just fits into that vague category of adult to him still. 

"Do you like pizza?" Mr. Anderson asks, when Kurt doesn't answer. 

"Yes," Kurt says, because as much as he doesn't want Mr. Anderson to get the idea that he likes being here, or likes _him_ , he hasn't had pizza that wasn't served in a middle school lunchroom in ages and just the thought makes his mouth water. "Can I eat it in my room?" 

Mr. Anderson looks disappointed but he says, "Whatever you want." 

When the pizza comes Kurt walks downstairs, peeking around the rest of the house - the kitchen and living room, the downstairs bathroom - and then retreats to his room. 

It's almost eight pm when Mr. Anderson knocks again. He's changed out of the clothes he'd been wearing and into pajama pants that look soft and warm, a dark plaid, and a t-shirt. "Hey, Kurt?" 

Kurt opens the door but doesn't invite him in. Mr. Anderson has something in his hands. 

He sees Kurt looking and smiles, holding it out. "Here, I thought you might want this. It's my old laptop, but it still runs pretty well. I wiped everything off of it so you can start over fresh. Password protect it if you want." 

"You - you're giving me a computer?" Kurt is dumbfounded. The last home didn't allow them internet access or free reign with the tv, and the facility had two ancient PCs with massive white monitors and beige towers that froze up and shut down as often as they worked. He hadn't even bothered. 

"Like I said, it's not new or anything, but... yeah, it's yours." Mr. Anderson holds it out to him. "I also just wanted you to know that anything in this house I give to you is yours. Your case worker explained to me that you had a problem with other people taking your things. Obviously you're the only kid here, but I still want to reassure you that I'm not going to take back anything I give to you." 

"Really?" Kurt asks, heart thumping.

"Really." Mr. Anderson smiles at him. "I'll leave you alone for the night. I hope you sleep well. If you need anything, I'm actually next door, okay?" 

"Okay." Kurt swallows, taking the computer. He looks back up just as Mr. Anderson is shutting the door and calls out, "Thank you." 

The door pauses halfway to being closed. "You're welcome, Kurt."

 

**thirteen.**  
 _blaine_

Blaine lays awake in his own bed, marveling over the fact that there’s currently another person in his home. 

A person he’s responsible for. 

A person that will still be there when he wakes up in the morning. Hopefully - fuck, what if he tries to run away? What if-

Nerves prompt Blaine back out of bed, walking to Kurt’s room. The light is on under the door and he can hear a muted sound. Music? He strains to listen and decides that it’s definitely music, though he can’t make out what song. 

He’d thought he’d have a chance to get to know Kurt right away. Even though the social worker had warned him that Kurt might be closed off to begin with, he hadn’t really been anticipating absolutely no conversation. 

The whole day had been anticlimactic but Blaine knows that his own feelings aren’t what is important here. If being alone is what it takes to make Kurt feel better, then Blaine will leave him alone. 

* 

It’s Friday when Kurt arrives. Blaine has already arranged for a long weekend; he’ll need to go with Kurt on Monday to enroll at his new school. Blaine isn’t in the same district as Kurt’s last one. 

He wakes up on Saturday morning planning on making breakfast, but when he gets into the kitchen he can see subtle signs that someone else has been there. Everything has been carefully replaced but he knows some of the bread is missing and there’s a smear of jam along the drain of the sink, like something had been washed. Kurt must have gotten hungry. 

Blaine is glad Kurt felt comfortable enough to help himself and polite enough to clean up after himself but something about the way Kurt clearly tried to leave nothing disturbed makes Blaine want to sigh. 

He still wants breakfast for himself, though, so he makes scrambled eggs and bacon and heats up a couple of muffins he’d made the day before. He goes upstairs and knocks gently on Kurt’s door. “You hungry?” He asks, giving no signs that he knows Kurt has already eaten. 

“No,” Kurt says, though his nostrils flair a little as the scent of the eggs and bacon hits his nose. 

“Are you sure?” Blaine exaggerates his disappointment. “I made way too much for just me, and I hate it going to waste.” 

“Don’t make too much next time,” Kurt says. 

“Okay. Good point. But for now... come have breakfast with me?” Blaine gives Kurt the same pouty little smile that used to work so well on his mother. 

It doesn’t really have the same effect. Blaine is pretty sure it’s actually the bacon that seals the deal, but he manages to get Kurt downstairs and across from him. 

Kurt isn’t big on conversation but Blaine just starts in on the little things he thinks Kurt might need to know - like how sometimes the downstairs toilet doesn’t flush right and you have to jiggle the handle, what days the garbage runs on, how the neighbor across the street won’t shut up once she gets going. 

“So how do you feel about shopping today?” Blaine asks. 

Kurt looks uncomfortable again. “For what?” 

Blaine shrugs. “Stuff for your room?”

“It seems well furnished to me.” 

“Yeah, but - you know. Stuff to make it yours. It was just a guest room before. It looks very... guest-room-ish.” 

Kurt shrugs. “It’s fine.” 

“Then clothes,” Blaine decides. 

He can see that sparks something. 

Blaine grins. “I have a Brooks Brothers discount card if that makes you feel better.” 

“Obviously,” Kurt snipes. 

“Ouch.” Blaine puts a hand over his heart. “Hit me where it hurts. Right in the bowties.” 

Kurt has to try hard not to laugh but Blaine can see the hints of it anyway. 

“Okay then, young Mr. Hummel, where would _you_ prefer to shop?” Blaine rests his chin on his fist, elbow on the table. “Anywhere in the Lima Mall.” 

“Nordstroms,” Kurt says, with more decisiveness than Blaine would expect from a teenage boy. “If we’re limited to the mall.” 

“For now, yeah,” Blaine says, grinning. 

*

Kurt is hesitant for all of twenty minutes before he spots a rack of scarves and Blaine can see him warming up. He’s a kid in a candy shop, wanting to try on everything though it takes some encouraging from Blaine before he’s willing to buy. He keeps giving Blaine little looks like he expects his growing pile of outfits to be yanked away. 

Blaine is impressed listening to Kurt talking to the sales girl that follows them around the store making suggestions and running to get different sizes if something is too big for Kurt. 

“How do you know all of this?” Blaine asks. 

Kurt shrugs, looking straight ahead at a display of socks. He reaches out and sifts through them as though it’s taking all of his concentration. “My last foster mother got fashion magazines. Sometimes I’d take them and read them.” 

“We can get you some of those,” Blaine says, gears spinning in his mind. “You know - we don’t have to get everything in the store. If you want things you aren’t finding here, we can shop online tonight.” 

“Really?” Kurt is obviously desperately trying to control how much he wants to do that, but his resolve is slipping and the excitement is showing through. 

“Yeah, absolutely.” Blaine grins at him, proud to have gotten something right. 

* 

They have lunch in the food court. Kurt looks amazed at the choices around him. Blaine gives him ten bucks and says he can get what he wants. Kurt comes back with a huge cinnamon roll, a six inch sandwich from Subway, and a pretzel. 

He looks at Blaine with defiance in his eyes, like he’s just waiting on Blaine to tell him he can’t have them. 

Blaine just eyes his choices and nods approvingly. He wonders how many times in his life Kurt has wanted something and been denied it. “I’m gonna go have to get one of those,” he says, nodding at the cinnamon roll. 

Kurt relaxes after a minute, satisfied with Blaine’s lack of admonishment. Then he digs in and demolishes his food with age-appropriate gusto. 

“So, after we’ve finished lunch... I’m thinking we have clothes out of the way, so we can go with decor?” It’s just a stab in the dark but if Kurt likes fashion and obviously has a definite opinion of what he thinks looks good together. 

“Why would you want to spend more money on me than you already have?” Kurt asks. “I know you don’t get paid that much for taking me in. There’s a reason most families want as many as they can get.” 

“Kurt, I’m not doing this for the money. I have a job. It pays pretty well.” 

“What do you do?” Kurt asks. 

“I own a little studio where we give music lessons, and sometimes we record instructional videos to put online.” Blaine keeps it simple for him. 

“Really?” Kurt frowns. 

“Yeah. Why?” Blaine takes a bite of his own sandwich while he waits for Kurt to respond. 

“If you aren’t doing this for the money, I don’t get it.” 

Blaine shrugs. “I just wanted to help someone out.” 

“I don’t need help,” Kurt says immediately. 

“Fine, then I just wanted to throw my own cash at someone,” Blaine teases, because he has a hunch he can. He has a hunch that Kurt isn’t really as offended as he seems, that he just cares a lot about not looking like he needs anything from anyone. 

“I realize what you’re trying to do,” Kurt says, licking icing from his thumb in a way that somehow still manages to look prim. “You’re very transparent.” 

“Oh yeah? And what am I trying to do?” 

“Buy my affections.” Kurt states it plainly. “I just still don’t know why.”

“Well, is it working?” 

Kurt glances down at the multiple bags around him. “It’s a good start.” 

Blaine laughs surprisingly loudly, earning a few looks from people at tables around them. “I’ll take that.” 

 

 

**fourteen.**  
 _blaine_

If you ask Blaine, he'd say looking back that it took about a month before Kurt felt comfortable in the house. 

Once he gets to know Kurt, he realizes that a month is actually the best he could have hoped for. Once he gets to know Kurt, he realizes that Kurt is exceptionally good at many things - among those being the art of shutting people out. He’s a fiercely independent child, who never should have had to learn how to assume that everyone was out to get something from him. Blaine knows enough about Kurt’s history from Abby to understand just a little bit what kind of world he was ripped from and what he was dumped into. 

It’s fucked up, but it’s not Kurt’s fault. He's a unique kid in a world that doesn't really value unique kids. He's exactly what Blaine wanted when he realized on his twenty-eighth birthday that his life was just too lonely. He hadn't wanted a baby to raise, he hadn't wanted a younger child - he'd wanted someone that had less of a chance. 

When the social worker told him there was a little boy with a history of physical abuse and being bullied, he'd been sold. When she said that she thought the kid might be gay, he'd known there was no way he wasn't giving this his best shot. 

It's been worth it, though. He's spent a year watching Kurt come into his own. He's not shy or timid around Blaine in the least anymore. He treats the house like it's his home and he isn't afraid to ask Blaine when he needs something. Clothes, usually - to the point where Blaine started giving him a generous allowance and unleashing him at the mall every weekend.

Now he’s about to see Kurt through a milestone first - beginning high school. 

"Kurt?" Blaine calls out, halfway through making breakfast. “You look fine! Come eat something!” 

"Hi," Kurt says, breathless as he bounds down the stairs. "How do I look?" 

“I already said you look fine.” 

“Blaine, you hadn’t even seen what I was wearing.” Kurt holds his arms out in a flourish. 

The outfit is... well. It's very Kurt. Blaine has learned to become diplomatic in his responses. "You look like you're making a statement." 

Kurt beams at him, face flushed. "Good." 

"Here, I made you an omelet." Blaine slides the plate across to him. They usually eat at the kitchen island. There is a table but it seems so big and empty with just the two of them. Blaine likes how cozy this is. "So, you remember what I said, right? If you have any problems-" 

"Call you right away," Kurt recites. "It's high school, Blaine, I think I'll be okay." 

Blaine knows that Kurt views everything through a lens of 'I've been through worse' but he still knows that high school students have their own unique brands of cruelty. Just because Kurt has been through it before doesn't mean it wouldn't suck it go through it again. 

"Your phone is charged?" Blaine asks. 

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Yes, Blaine. It's charged. And I also have that canister of mace."

"I hope you don't have to use it." Blaine knows he's probably pushing a line and Kurt will start to balk soon but he can't help it. 

He remembers his own freshman year of high school. The idea of Kurt going through that- 

He might not really be Blaine's kid, but Blaine can't imagine loving him any more even if he were. Kurt, somehow, despite everything, manages to both protect himself while also keeping some part of him guarded that secretly does believe that he can do whatever he wants, be whoever he wants, achieve everything he wants. The idea of Kurt suffering, at all... Blaine just wants to wrap him up and protect him from the world. 

* 

Kurt's freshman year of high school is unpleasant. 

He doesn't have to say it for Blaine to know it. The defeat is etched into his slumping posture every time he comes home after a rough day. 

And there’s nothing Blaine can do. 

He hasn’t shared his own high school horror stories with Kurt. He hasn’t wanted to make anything Kurt was going through worse or give him new things to fear, but he meets with Kurt’s teachers to make sure they’re aware of what is going on and aware that Kurt has a guardian prepared to take steps to ensure Kurt’s safety if the teachers aren’t doing their jobs. 

That only goes so far, though. He can’t watch over Kurt once the bell has rung or on the weekends. He can only know as much of the story as Kurt tells him, and he remembers being that age. He remembers how much he didn’t tell anyone and he knows Kurt must be keeping some secrets. 

Blaine can't do anything to make it better during school, so he does everything he can to make sure that Kurt has other things in his life to look forward to. He knows from overhearing shower concertos that Kurt has an interest in music, so he starts buying tickets to shows every weekend. The voice lessons are a snap, considering Blaine runs a small music studio where he runs lessons and classes for children and teenagers. He does more as a business owner than a teacher these days but he gives Kurt free reign to choose what he wants to learn. He sticks with voice, not showing much interest in instruments yet. Blaine keeps trying, though. 

He’s determined to make sure that Kurt has every door open to him that he wants. Even if that means things like figuring out exactly how one gets a subscription to the Italian version of Vogue and what Marc Jacobs lines are officially out of season and not worth of being given as a Christmas present. 

He loves finding things to bond with Kurt over, even the unexpected things - like how after finding his kitchen a wreck a few times he had decided to get Kurt cooking lessons. Those were met with a stern "Blaine, you need these more than me," and Blaine finds himself spending every other Sunday learning the difference between souffle and flambe. 

They do make a pretty kickass breakfast once they combine their skills on that front, though. The Sunday morning breakfasts become a thing for them. Blaine tells Kurt that he used to do that with his mom, brunch with fresh fruit and little sandwiches while he drank orange juice and watched her sip champagne. 

Kurt tells him that when he was little he used to have tea parties and once his mother got too sick to leave the bed, his father would play along. 

Kurt doesn’t talk about his parents much, so when he does Blaine makes sure he’s listening. 

*

The fifth time Kurt mentions New York inside of a month, Blaine decides to splurge. He needs to do some traveling for work, a little meet and greet with a potential client for the new series of live, webcam based instructional classes he’s hoping to get started. 

The meeting doesn’t have to happen in person, but he knows it will have more impact if it does, and if he’s going to New York... it’s not too much of a stretch to buy a second plane ticket. 

He hands Kurt the envelope over breakfast.

Kurt takes it, giving Blaine a quizzical look as he opens it. Blaine makes sure he’s holding up his phone to snap a picture of the expression on Kurt’s face when the puzzle pieces lock into place. 

“New York?” Kurt gasps, voice impossibly high. “Are you serious?” 

“End of the week,” Blaine confirms. “I’ll write you a note and maybe you can get your homework early and do it on the plane.” 

“Blaine!” 

He’s never seen Kurt beam quite so brightly. 

“So I take it that means you want to go...?” Blaine teases. 

Kurt shoves away from the table. “I have to go pack!” 

“Kurt!” Blaine calls after him, laughing. “It’s only Tuesday-” 

“I don’t care!” He can hear Kurt’s footsteps on the stairs as his voice fades. “Blaine, I have to pack!” 

Blaine stays at the kitchen table finishing his breakfast, a huge smile on his face. Does he spoil Kurt? Maybe, but it's not like Blaine has much else to spend his money on. His trust fund easily paid for his house and car, and the studio thrives with no rival music schools close enough to be real competition. 

Spoiling Kurt is a wonderful hobby considering everything Kurt's been through. Kurt appreciates it, and Blaine appreciates being able to put that smile on Kurt's face. 

 

**fourteen.**  
 _kurt_

New York is everything Kurt thought it would be. 

Blaine books them a hotel room with a view that Kurt doesn’t stop staring at until Blaine reminds him that it’s time to actually go out _into_ the city. 

They only have four days. A mid-afternoon flight brings them into the city on a Friday and a later evening one will see them back home Monday. Kurt already knows it won’t be enough time, barely three hours into the trip. 

“I want to move here one day,” he tells Blaine. 

Blaine doesn’t look that surprised. “Yeah?” 

“Yes.” Kurt changes his mind and rephrases it. “I’m going to move here one day.” 

“You should apply to colleges here,” Blaine says. “You know I’d help you pay for it.” 

Kurt still isn’t sure how Blaine does that, how he can turn Kurt’s world upside down with an offer and make it sound like he’s asking Kurt what he wants for lunch. 

* 

Blaine has a full weekend lined up for them. Kurt is never happy just to play passenger on a ride though. Blaine says they can take cabs and it will be easier but Kurt wants to feel like a real New Yorker. 

Standing there studying the maps and feeling rushed by the crowd leaves him feeling like anything but the native he wants to be, but Blaine indulges him in this, too. 

Blaine has tickets to Wicked for them, and reservations for a late dinner afterward. Kurt is dead on his feet by the time they make it back to the hotel room but he’s never been happier in his life. 

“So it was good?” Blaine asks for the third time. 

Kurt isn’t sure why _he_ is the one that seems nervous. “Of course. It was amazing. It was... thank you.” 

He blurts out the last part. Blaine told Kurt long ago that he should just accept Blaine doing things for him, paying for things, and for the most part Kurt is used to just going with it. But this is different, this is more, above and beyond, and Kurt wants Blaine to know that he knows it. 

Blaine’s hand settles on his back, between his shoulder blades, and then slides over to grip and squeeze his shoulder in a one-armed hug. “I’m just glad you’re having fun.” 

* 

They spend Sunday morning in Central Park, enjoying their weekly brunch while sitting on a huge rock formation and watching the people walk by with their dogs. 

“I want one like that!” Kurt says, pointing at a businessman in a dapper suit with curly hair walking a Bernese Mountain dog. 

“Kurt, that dog is bigger than you are,” Blaine laughs. 

“Is not!” Kurt elbows him. 

“Besides, you’d die with all of that dog hair on your clothes.” 

Kurt gives him a sideways look. He can’t really argue that point. “Okay, then one of those, maybe.” He points to a little French bulldog with a pink collar complete with rhinestones shining in the sunlight waddling along behind her owner. 

“That one is definitely you,” Blaine agrees. “You could dress her up!” 

“What if it’s a him?” Kurt challenges him, smirking. 

“Fine, you could dress _him_ up. Like you’d let gender lines get in the way, anyway,” Blaine says. 

And - that’s the thing about Blaine, really. He can say things like that, things that Kurt would be offended by if anyone else said it, but Blaine never judges him. 

He can just _be_ with Blaine. He doesn’t have to worry about sending the wrong impression or saying the wrong thing. No matter what he says, Blaine won’t flinch. No matter how ill-advised an outfit is, no matter how outlandish his accessories are, Blaine just... accepts him. 

Kurt looks back at the dogs and bites his lip, smiling. 

* 

Blaine leaves Kurt at the hotel room Monday morning when he goes for his meeting, but comes back to get him for lunch. 

“Where are we going?” Kurt asks, giving himself another once-over in the mirror. “How do I look?” 

“It’s a surprise, and you look fine,” Blaine says.

Kurt rolls his eyes. “You would think so.” 

“Hey!” Blaine pouts. “You don’t like what I’m wearing?” 

Kurt sighs and turns to study his outfit, one hand on his hip. “It’s very... you,” he finally says, diplomatic because, well, Blaine is paying for this whole trip. The least he can do is tone down his critical eye. 

“I thought I looked cute.” Blaine nudges him out of the way. “The barista at Starbucks did, too.” 

“What?” Kurt frowns and looks at him. 

Blaine smirks. “He gave me his number.” 

“Oh.” Kurt is flustered. He has no idea how to respond to that. Blaine doesn’t - he doesn’t talk about guys like that. 

Kurt doesn’t mind. He knows Blaine is gay. And that’s fine - if Blaine is gay. Blaine just doesn’t talk about it like that. 

“Kurt? I promise, you look fine.” 

Kurt realizes that Blaine is waiting by the door, smiling patiently. “Oh, I’m ready.” 

He grabs a light jacket and follows out behind Blaine. 

* 

“So, you said you used to have tea parties with your parents...” Blaine says, eager and obviously a little nervous as he leads Kurt inside the small restaurant. 

“It’s...” Kurt smiles, looking around. “I read about this place in the book. We’re... going to have a tea party?” 

“Unless you don’t want to, but speak soon because we’re about to be seated,” Blaine says. His voice goes gentle. “If you don’t want to, it’s fine, though. We can go somewhere else.” 

Kurt blinks hard a few times. 

His mother would have loved this. He wonders if she ever came here? If she’d ever been to New York at all? If she even liked tea parties, or if that was just an indulgence for her little boy? 

It doesn’t matter, he decides. There’s no one left to share with him the things about his mother that he doesn’t know, so he has to hold to the memories that he does have. 

He reaches out and takes Blaine’s hand, the first time he’s ever done that. Blaine’s fingers are warm and sure on his. “Let’s have tea.” 

He lets go as soon as the woman approaches to seat them. 

“There was a kind of herbal tea my mother used to drink,” Kurt says quietly, eyes skimming the list. “It was - this one. Vervain. It tasted like lemons.”

“Was there a certain kind your dad liked?” Blaine asks. 

Kurt shrugs. “I don’t remember. I don’t think he even really liked tea. He was probably more of a beer and soda guy.” 

“Well, I don’t think they serve those here,” Blaine says. “So I’ll get the Sessa and maybe we can try each other’s.” 

They order scones and sandwiches and sip their tea and discuss the weekend and things they want to do next time and (next time! Blaine says it so casually, dropping it into the conversation like it’s nothing). The conversation wanders between school and gossip between employees at the studio and back around to New York again, colleges and programs and what Kurt might want to study. 

He’s not sure how two hours passes so quickly but eventually Blaine says, “We should be heading back to the hotel room to get our stuff.” 

“Whyyyyy...” Kurt pouts. 

“Nuh uh.” Blaine points at him. “Turn those eyes off, that’s not going to work.” 

Kurt can’t hold the pout, he laughs too easily. “I learned it from you. Is that - is that how you got that guy’s number?” 

He’s not curious, not really. He’s just... well, a tiny bit curious, fine. 

“What? No. That was just my natural charm.” Blaine tugs on his cardigan and preens. 

“Your natural dorkiness,” Kurt counters. 

“Whatever. We can’t all be at the Kurt Hummel level,” Blaine says, and again, it’s one of those things that should make Kurt feel like he’s being mocked but - Blaine doesn’t, Blaine wouldn’t. 

“Too true,” Kurt says, smirking. “Are you going to call him?” 

“What? Oh? The coffee guy? Why would I, we’re headed home today. I don’t have time for that anyway.” Blaine shrugs dismissively. 

Kurt finds himself relieved, though he’s not sure why. 

 

**fifteen.**  
 _kurt_

Glee club is easily the best thing that's happened to Kurt, besides Blaine. 

Sure, Rachel is obnoxious and Mercedes is a little creepy sometimes with how she stares at him, but _Finn_ is in Glee now and that makes everything in the world a little bit better as long as he doesn’t stop and think too hard about why he likes being around Finn so much. 

He doesn’t even realize that he’s spent all of dinner talking about glee until Blaine stops being able to hold back his grin. “-and then Finn said- what?” 

“Finn said?” Blaine prompts him. 

“No, you’re laughing.” Kurt narrows his eyes. “Are you laughing at me?” 

“Kurt! No. No, I’m not, I swear.” Blaine holds his hands up. “I think it’s amazing that the club is going so well for you. It’s just-” 

“What?” Kurt insists. 

“Don’t get mad at me?” Blaine asks. 

“Why would I...” 

“Just, you’ve mentioned Finn like - twelve times.” 

“Oh.” Kurt lets his fork drop. 

He feels kind of sick. Is he that obvious that Blaine can pick up on it? 

If Blaine knows, everyone must know. 

And they always have - back to the care facility, to that awful first foster home, all those kids teasing him, mocking him, taunting him. And before that? His parents? He remembers baby pictures of himself in his mother’s heels. They all knew.

“Kurt...” Blaine sighs. “Hey, look at me? Kurt?” 

Kurt forces himself to look up. 

“You know I’m gay. You know if there’s ever anything you want to tell me, I’m here to talk. If you have any questions...” Blaine looks so open and honest when he says it. It helps to ground Kurt and give him something to cling to. 

“Kurt?” Blaine prompts again. “ _Do_ you have any questions?” 

Kurt isn’t dumb. He knows what Blaine is trying to lead him to. He’s just not there yet. And he does have questions, he has has a million questions but none of them he feels like he could ask without dying of embarrassment. 

Except one, maybe. 

“Why don’t you date?” 

That clearly isn’t what Blaine had been expecting. It’s not something they’ve discussed in the two years Kurt has been there, beyond that one guy in Starbucks in New York. But in school people are pairing off left and right and Kurt understands why no one wants to date _him_ but he’s not sure about Blaine. 

“I... um.” Blaine stammers.

“You’re... you’re attractive.” Kurt only stumbles over the words a little bit. It’s objective, right? It doesn’t mean he’s admitting anything. “And successful. Why don’t you date?” 

“I just haven’t had time.” Blaine shrugs. “I dated a guy a few months before you came to live here. He turned out to be an asshole and I didn’t feel like trying again. Then I had you, and come on - you’re better conversation than most boyfriends would be.” 

Kurt preens a little. He and Blaine do get along well. They might not have the history that a real father and son would have, but they have things in common. 

Kurt can’t imagine that at this age he’d be getting along with his real father as well as he does with Blaine. Not that he wouldn’t give anything for the chance to find out. His face falls remembering his dad and suddenly he isn’t hungry anymore. 

Blaine might accept him, but his father wouldn’t want a gay son. 

So that’s really all there is to it. He just... can’t be gay. 

* 

Kurt knows he can’t be gay, but apparently his dreams disagree. 

He wakes in the middle of the night humping the bed, hazy memories of strong hands on his skin. He’s so close and his hips rut forward a couple of times as he buries his face in his spit-damp pillow. His cock jerks and coats the inside of his underwear in sticky hot come. 

He feels like crying because it’s so good and so wrong at the same time. 

Because he doesn’t want to be this and he doesn’t want to think those things or feel this way. 

He slides out of his underwear, folds them carefully and wipes at his cock before tiptoeing to the hamper and carefully hiding them away under dirty towels from the day before. 

*

The next day when Blaine comes home from work, Kurt is on the couch with Brittany Pierce straddling him and trying to get to second base. 

After twenty minutes of making out with her, he’s not sure why anyone would be straight or gay. Kissing is wet and gross and her tongue is everywhere and the most pleasant thing about it is the faint bubblegum taste of her lip gloss. He wonders if she’d tell him what brand it is. 

He feels a grim satisfaction when Blaine walks in on them, though. 

Blaine just looks at him, taken aback, and then shakes his head a little. “Um. Hi there, Kurt. And... friend.” 

Brittany’s hair swishes across Kurt’s face when she sits up and looks over her shoulder. He makes a face and pushes it aside. “Hi! You must be Kurt’s dad. Wow, Kurt, you have a hot dad.” 

“He’s not my dad,” Kurt says, and at the same time- 

\- at the same time, Blaine says, “I’m not really his dad.” 

“Oooh.” Brittany’s face lights up. “Are we going to have a threesome? Older guys are hot. I like it better with two girls, but this one guy on the football team-” 

“Brittany!” Kurt hisses. 

Blaine doesn’t look surprise anymore, just really - amused. “Kurt didn’t tell me he had a date he was bringing over. It’s very nice to meet you, Brittany. Kurt? I’m gonna go upstairs and get changed. I can hit the gym if you guys want to hang out for a little bit longer. Are you staying for dinner, Brittany? I can swing by Breadstix and pick up enough for three.” 

“No!” Kurt’s eyes go wide and panicky. “No, she’s not staying for dinner.” 

“But I like breadsticks.” Brittany frowns. 

Kurt nudges her off. “Brittany was actually just leaving.” 

“Oh. Was I? I must have forgotten.” Brittany gets up, pulling lip gloss out of her pocket to reapply it. “Bye, Kurt. This was fun. Bye, guy who lives in Kurt’s house.” 

“Bye, Brittany.” Blaine waves, heading upstairs just like he’d said he was going to do. 

Kurt watches after him, annoyed. This hadn’t gone at all like he’d planned.

*

“I’m gay.” 

Kurt knows Blaine knows, but he still needs to say it.

So one day he just - does. His brief attempt at heterosexuality with Brittany had been an dismal failure. The Finn fiasco is over, that crush buried under the embarrassment of having it. The whole thing with Mercedes is cleared up. Kurt has survived his first crush, survived the public humiliation that came with Finn’s outburst on him, survived the first unreciprocated crush someone has had on him. 

He’s survived it all and the world hadn’t ended. He’d been forced to come out to Mercedes and hadn’t needed to come out to anyone else. 

But if there’s anyone he feels safe with, and safe being honest with, it’s Blaine. 

When Blaine looks him in the eye and says, “Kurt, I’m so proud of you,” Kurt breaks down. 

Blaine looks alarmed, closing the space between them to draw Kurt into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay, you know that, right? There is nothing wrong with you for how you were born.” 

It’s not okay. Kurt shakes his head. “I know, I just-” 

He can’t get the words out. He just cries harder, dampening Blaine’s shirt. 

Blaine rubs his back in wide circles until Kurt calms down. “Kurt, what is it? What’s wrong?” 

“I think my parents would have hated me,” he finally admits. The words hurt to say. “I don’t know about my mom, but I think my dad would be disappointed.” 

“Kurt...” Blaine looks heartbroken for him. “I never met your parents. I can’t tell you for sure one way or the other. But I can’t imagine that your parents wouldn’t have loved you. You are an amazing kid, and if they were the decent people you remember them to be then they’d have recognized how lucky they were to have you.” 

Kurt’s breath hiccups and he doesn’t say anything, but his tears do stop. 

“Convincing yourself that you’re less than what they’d have wanted won’t do you any good, Kurt. And it’s doing them a disservice by assuming the worst about them. Remember how they did love you, when you had each other, and let that be your guide,” Blaine says. 

“Okay,” Kurt finally whispers, because it’s not like a few words can erase how he feels but somehow what Blaine says does help some. It makes sense, and maybe if he reminds himself of that (or has Blaine remind him) then he can stop being so miserable over it. 

“Now.” Blaine cups his tear-stained cheeks and then kisses his forehead. “Let’s order pizza and watch a movie. We can objectify some hot guys together.” 

Kurt groans and laughs. “You just want an excuse to play Iron Man again.” 

“You know you like it,” Blaine teases him. “Don’t try and lie. Superheroes are _awesome._ ” 

“You sound like Sam.” Kurt still has his cheek resting against Blaine’s shoulder. He loves how Blaine’s arms feel around him. It’s secretly his favorite thing, has been for years now. But he knows he has to let go eventually, so he does. “I’m going to wash my face. No anchovies on the pizza, please.” 

Blaine strokes his fingers through Kurt’s hair one more time. “Whatever you want.”

*

Blaine would actually make a pretty terrific father. 

Kurt hopes that Blaine gets that chance for real one day. Blaine is exactly what a kid needs to grow up with. Kurt wouldn’t trade the eight years he had with his mother or the ten with his father for anything, but he knows any child would be lucky to call Blaine their dad. 

He’s patient with Kurt when Kurt has his teenager moments. He’s willing to go along with Kurt on his whims, he is at least moderately good at pretending to be interested the things Kurt is interested in, he shows concern over what goes on at school without being overbearing about it. He checks on Kurt’s grades regularly but doesn’t make him feel awful if he doesn’t get top marks in something. 

He encourages Kurt to follow his dreams and Kurt knows that Blaine will support him emotionally and financially. 

It’s not that surprising when Blaine says, “I know we’ve got a few months to go still, I’m setting you up with a bank account for your sixteenth birthday.” 

“Really?” Kurt’s face lights up. 

“Yeah. I’ll start depositing your allowance straight into it, and if you want pick up any extra money you can work part time at the studio.” In the years since he’s lived with Blaine, Kurt hasn’t shown a passion for instruments like he does singing but he has turned out to be fairly proficient with the piano. “And... if you want... we can look at getting you a car.” 

“Blaine...” Kurt’s jaw drops. “That’s too much.” 

“I’m not talking about something brand new.” Blaine goes on, ignoring Kurt’s protest. “But we can check out a few used car dealerships and see what kind of price range we want to set.” 

Kurt wraps his arms around himself. “Blaine, you don’t have to do this. I can get a job and get a car for myself. The Lima Bean is hiring.” 

“I know I don’t have to do this, Kurt.” Blaine reaches a hand out and rests it on Kurt’s knee. “I want to, okay? I could make you get a job and pay for it yourself if I really wanted to, but I’d rather you use your time after school and on the weekends working toward NYADA. Or, if you change your mind, then whatever school you end up wanting to go to. Your future is important to me. _You_ are important to me, Kurt.” 

Blaine doesn’t say _I love you_ to him. It’s just not a sentiment they exchange. Kurt’s memories of _I love you_ are linked with his parents; his mother’s warm arms and soft, sweet-smelling embrace and his father’s gruff voice in his ear, hand solid and grounding as it holds Kurt’s smaller one. 

But Kurt hopes he doesn’t really need for Blaine to say it to know it. 

Kurt lunges forward and throws his arms around Blaine, hugging him tightly. Blaine goes stiff for a second before he hugs back, but when he does he gives it his all. This is familiar in a different way from his parents, he realizes. The smell of Blaine’s hair gel and cologne, the strength in his arms. Even the way the stubble on Blaine’s cheek is rough against his own, since they’re about the same height. “Thank you,” Kurt whispers. 

Blaine’s arms squeeze him briefly. “You’re welcome, Kurt.” 

 

**fifteen.**  
 _blaine_

Blaine doesn’t see his parents often. 

They moved out of Ohio a year before Blaine graduated high school, flying back once for his graduation from Dalton and then - to the best of his knowledge - never returning. They’re still married, technically, but he knows they’re rarely in the same city anymore. 

He talks to his mother on the phone once or twice a week and his father once a month, usually, but sometimes the calls go missed and neither of them are motivated to try too many times. 

Neither of his parents have met Kurt. Neither of them show any real signs of even wanting to. He suspects that it wouldn’t matter if he adopted Kurt, that it wouldn’t make a difference. 

He’s not totally without family, though. When Kurt is fifteen, they get a visit from Blaine’s brother. Cooper sweeps into town with gifts more appropriate for someone half Kurt’s age and makes himself at home. 

* 

Cooper comes, entirely accidentally, during Kurt’s spring break. 

Blaine had planned on bringing Kurt into the studio with him during the week if he wanted, or just leaving him to lounge at home or hang out with his glee club friends if he didn’t, but once Cooper is there Kurt is... 

Well, he’s besotted. Fully, and very _obviously_ , besotted. 

“You’re from-” Kurt gapes, recognizing Cooper right away from his role on a daytime soap opera. “Blaine! Why didn’t you tell me!” 

Blaine shrugs. He’s amused by Kurt’s reaction, and happy to see his brother.

“Yep. And you must be the kid my brother won’t stop talking about.” Cooper reaches out to ruffle Kurt’s hair. 

Kurt turns bright red. “I’m fifteen,” he says. 

“Oh, not so much of a kid, my bad. You look young, though. But that’s good. If you tried to act, it would come in really handy. No one wants to hire kids that look their actual age. It’s one of the golden rules,” Cooper says. 

“Golden rules?” Kurt asks, eyes wide and a charmed smile on his face, and that’s what tips Blaine off. 

That and the way Kurt listens and hangs on every word Cooper says like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. _No one_ actually listens that much to Cooper when he talks unless they want something - usually in his pants. 

He knows Kurt is fifteen, but the idea of Kurt wanting that still seems... well, Blaine isn’t sure exactly how he feels about that. 

*

Cooper offers to take Kurt along with him when he goes to reconnect with some of his Dalton friends and Kurt practically trips over himself saying yes. When they sit to all hang out and watch a movie he isn’t nearly as subtle as he thinks when he arranges it so that Cooper sits in the middle and has to reach into Kurt’s lap for the popcorn. 

Blaine tries to tell himself that he has no reason to worry. It’s not like he’d worry about Cooper _doing_ anything - Cooper has demonstrated through years of unflattering womanizing that he is thoroughly straight. 

Cooper just really likes attention. He doesn’t just like it, he feeds on it. He adores being adored, and right now Kurt is fitting that bill nicely. 

Around the middle of the week Blaine realizes that the gnawing feeling he’s experiencing isn’t actually worry, at all. 

It’s jealousy. 

He doesn’t like admitting it, but he’d spent most of his childhood in Cooper’s shadow. He’d grown up knowing he was the slightly more disappointing child. Everything from his sexuality to his stature and lack of desire to play sports to his decision to stay in Ohio and something as un-glamorous as teach music had caused his parents to sigh a little bit and remind him of Cooper’s career, Cooper’s house in Los Angeles, Cooper, Cooper, Cooper. Even at Dalton, he lived in Cooper’s shadow. Blaine might be able to hold his own vocally, but Cooper has presence, Cooper has a leading man look. 

(Plus: Cooper is _tall_. Yeah, he’s still resentful over that one.)

Blaine crosses his arms over his chest as he stands in the doorway watching Kurt try to teach Cooper how to dice onions for an omelet. He watches Kurt biting his lip as his hand darts over to close over Cooper’s and show him the right knife motions. Kurt lets go as soon as he’s done, pushing his hair out of his face, a nervous gesture that Blaine recognizes. 

He really hadn’t counted on Kurt being one more thing he’d have to share with Cooper. Sunday morning breakfast is _their_ thing. But he remembers being a kid with a crush and it’s not like him having one on Cooper hurts anything. 

He should focus on the good things. That Kurt is coming to terms with his sexuality enough to have a crush like this and not beat himself up. That Kurt will have one more person in his life he feels like he can talk to and count on. (As much as anyone can count on Cooper.) That Kurt might feel more like he’s _Blaine’s_ family, having a connection to Blaine’s actual family. 

And Cooper is only here for a week. He’s catching a flight back to Los Angeles Monday morning. 

“You know, I think I’ll leave the cooking to you, kid.” Cooper puts a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and squeezes. “You’re pretty good. If you go the culinary route, I’d definitely hire you on as my personal chef.”

“Really?” Kurt squeaks. 

“Oh, yeah. Tell Blainers to bring you out to Los Angeles for a visit and you can see how you feel about the city.” Cooper gives his shoulder another squeezes and then sits down. 

Blaine steps forward then. “Need some help?” He asks Kurt, looking at all of the unchopped vegetables. 

Kurt smiles at him, happiness radiating from him. “Sure. Cooper likes mushrooms too, so do enough of those for him.” 

“Sure thing,” Blaine says, voice easy. He stands by Kurt, shoulder to shoulder, while Cooper sits behind them at the table checking emails on his phone. 

* 

Cooper leaves with a flurry of extravagant promises that Blaine knows him well enough to know that he won’t keep, and life gets back to normal. 

For Blaine, normal life has become Kurt. He goes with the New Directions to sectionals and then regionals, sitting in the front row of each. He listens to Kurt vent and learns all the nitty gritty details about all the other club members. 

He’s probably the most involved parental figure, because he lets the students come take lessons for half-off and he even goes in once in a while to fill in for Mr. Schuester when he’s unavailable. 

Rachel and Mercedes and Tina become semi-permanent fixtures around the house. Blaine foots the bill for more than one impromptu pizza party sleepover and sometimes they even ask him to stay and hang out. 

He likes that Kurt never seems bothered or embarrassed by his presence. He likes that Kurt is a smart enough kid to not ever do anything Blaine would really have to get strict with him about beyond warning him to curb his shopping habit once in awhile. 

He knows he could have done a lot worse with foster kids. Kurt is only a couple of years away from college, and Blaine still hasn’t decided if he’ll do this again when Kurt leaves. Lightning won’t strike twice, but maybe he’ll change his mind once Kurt is actually gone... even though just thinking about that gives him a pang. 

 

**sixteen.**  
 _blaine_

Blaine knows that Kurt spent most of his sophomore year being harassed by a meathead jock named Dave Karofsky. He wouldn’t have hesitated to pull Kurt out of the school the second Kurt finally came clean with him, but Kurt makes the decision to finish the year there. 

They look at other options over the summer, visiting a few schools before Kurt decides on Dalton Academy. 

“I went there for most of high school,” Blaine explains, showing Kurt the brochures. “It’s a really great school. They even have a glee club that’s top notch. It’s an a capella group.” 

“Let me guess,” Kurt asks, bumping his shoulder into Blaine’s. “You were lead vocalist?” 

“Why how did you know?” Blaine feigns ignorance, laughing when Kurt rolls his eyes. He has the two Nationals trophies that the Warblers won with him at the helm proudly on display along with a framed photo of the group. “I loved that school, Kurt. I think you will, too. But it’s your decision.” 

“Yeah, then. I want to go,” Kurt says. “I’m tired of no one at McKinley even noticing what’s going on.” 

The anxiety on Kurt’s face is genuine. Blaine wraps an arm around his shoulder and hugs him in close, kissing the top of his head when Kurt rests it on Blaine. 

Kurt’s shampoo smells good and Blaine’s eyes slide shut, letting himself linger. 

* 

Dalton is almost an hour and a half away from their house in Lima, so Kurt decides to board. 

It makes perfect sense on paper, but Blaine isn’t prepared for the emotional impact of Kurt suddenly not being around five days a week. 

The house is empty without Kurt’s voice filling it up. There’s no smell of coffee when Blaine rolls out of bed in the mornings. No one drops by the music studio around four with a muffin for him. His evenings are spent alone in front of the tv, staring at the spot where Kurt usually sits cross-legged on the floor doing his homework. 

He misses Kurt. 

He makes himself wait until the third night to call. Kurt keeps him updated through text messages fairly thoroughly, but something in him won’t settle until he hears how it’s going from Kurt himself. 

He sounds happy enough, downright chipper when he answer the phone with, “Blaine!” 

“Kurt.” Blaine stretches out on the couch, smiling. “You busy?” 

“No, I’m just in my dorm room doing homework. Blah. McKinley is so far behind. The history teacher is letting me postpone the test they’re supposed to be taking tomorrow, since I showed up mid-semester, but I’ll have to study all weekend.”

“Aw, really?” Blaine is disappointed. “I was hoping we could do something together.” 

“Like what?” Kurt asks. 

“I don’t know. Rent is in town - do you think you could take a study break for that?” He asks, hopeful. They’ve seen Rent at least four times, but it’s Blaine’s favorite. He suddenly wishes it were Wicked instead. Kurt can never resist Wicked. 

“Maybe... I don’t know.” Kurt sounds distracted. “Blaine? I’m sorry, one of the Warblers just sent me a text asking if I wanted to meet them for dinner.” 

“Really?” Blaine is excited. It’s impossible not to react that way to the mix of nerves and eagerness in Kurt’s voice. “So are you in? You never told me what your audition song was.” 

“I’ll call you later and fill you in, I swear, but I have to go - bye!” He hangs up before Blaine can say anything. 

* 

Kurt does come home that weekend, but the tickets for Rent go unused. 

Blaine doesn’t really end up caring. Kurt wants help studying, so they camp out in the living room with Chinese takeaway and he quizzes Kurt from the study guide. 

Blaine makes him take frequent gossip breaks and he revels in how vibrant and happy Kurt sounds. “You love it there, don’t you?” He asks. 

Kurt is caught off guard, puzzled since he’d been expecting another study guide question. “Oh - I am. I think. The guys are nice and it’s... I forgot what it felt like not to have to watch my back all day, every day.” 

“Kurt...” Blaine sighs, putting the book down. 

Sometimes in moments like this Blaine wishes Kurt were younger, young enough that he could fold Kurt up in his arms and actually protect him. 

But he’s not. Kurt is almost grown, an almost finished person, and the best Blaine can do is give him every opportunity to protect himself. 

“What?” Kurt asks. 

“Nothing. You’re just... amazing.” 

Kurt looks surprised, and then he blushes. “I’m not.” 

“No, you are. Hey, put the book down. Let’s just hang out for a while, okay?” Blaine suggests. “Come on. I missed you.” 

Kurt’s smile goes soft and crinkles his eyes up. “I missed you, too, Blaine.” 

“I’ve got a fourth of a cheesecake left with our name on it...” Blaine gets up, reaching down to push Kurt’s bangs back from his face as he walks by. 

“And a nice bottle of red?” Kurt asks hopefully, calling after Blaine. 

“Abby would kill me.” Blaine shouts back until he realizes Kurt is in the kitchen, too. He lowers his voice. “She’d murder me in my sleep.” 

Abby doesn’t actually do much more than call to check in a few times a month. Blaine isn’t even sure if it’s because she really needs to anymore, or if she just likes knowing that Kurt’s doing well. Whatever reason he likes that there’s another adult in Kurt’s life that Kurt knows cares. 

“Blaine.” Kurt pouts, bottom lip out.

Blaine’s stomach does a little flip. He caves almost instantly. “One glass.” 

* 

One glass turns into a bottle split between them. 

Blaine hasn’t really let Kurt drink this much before, but he’d rather Kurt understand responsible drinking and know his limitations before he ends up at one of the Dalton weekend parties on his own. 

Kurt, as it turns out, is a giggly drunk. 

He’s also an affectionate drunk. He ends up tucked in against Blaine, practically in his lap. Blaine keeps thinking he should shift away a little bit but half a bottle has Blaine ever so slightly buzzing. Kurt is warm and he smells good and Blaine doesn’t get much affection in his daily life. It’s... nice. 

Halfway through Batman Forever Kurt is slumped against him fast asleep. He’s adorable like this, baby fat still clinging to his cheeks though it’s obvious he’s growing into himself more and more every day. 

Blaine gets him stretched out on the couch and gathers up their wine glasses and dishes from dinner. It’s not enough to start the dishwasher so he washes them by hand, humming to himself in the peaceful quiet of the kitchen. 

He passes through the living room again on his way to take the trash out and notices Kurt has shifted from his side onto his back. He smiles and makes a note to put a blanket over him when he comes back through, or maybe just wake him up and send him off to bed. 

When he opens the door to come back inside the first thing he’s met with is a high whimper though, an almost pained noise. He frowns. Is Kurt having a nightmare? 

No. 

No, Kurt’s not. 

His face heats up when he sees that Kurt has one knee up against the back of the couch and his fingers loosely curled around the obvious shape of a hard on over his pajama pants. 

Fuck. Abby never warned him about this kind of situation. 

Kurt’s mouth falls open, lips cherry red and panting. His hips twitch up against his hand and another of those little muted noises slips out. 

He’s having a sex dream. Or some kind of dream that’s really getting him worked up. Blaine isn’t so far removed from teenage years or sexual frustration to remember what wet dreams are like, and he’s had a suspicion since Kurt was fourteen and start insisting he do his own laundry, but Kurt has his own bathroom and Blaine never enters his room without knocking. Somehow they’ve manage to sidestep any true awkwardness related to it. 

He’s actually managed pretty well just assuming nothing of Kurt as any kind of sexual being except related to the emotional impact of his sexuality, but that firmly ingrained concept of Kurt as a forever-thirteen year old is shattering in front of his eyes as he watches Kurt get off and can’t bring himself to step away. 

The whines become faster and his hips twitch harder, humping the air and his hand. Blaine needs to - he needs to leave. Go upstairs, go to bed, give Kurt some privacy. 

But he stands there rooted to the spot until Kurt’s hand shoves down and his hips shove up and his whole body does a spastic little jerk. His face scrunches up tight and then he goes utterly, bonelessly relaxed. 

A damp spot spread across the front of his pajamas, barely noticeable unless you’re looking closely - and Blaine is. 

Then he backs away so fast he almost trips, turns and heads upstairs without remembering to lock the front door or put a blanket over Kurt. He closes his bedroom door gently and locks it then - cursing himself for an utter lack of willpower and for how long it’s been since he’s gotten laid - pushes his pajama pants to mid-thigh and jerks off right there, back against the door, panting until he comes muffled against his palm. 

* 

The next afternoon Kurt is back at Dalton and Blaine is left alone, shaken and confused and trying to bury his guilt under rationalizations that feel weak to his own ears. 

On Thursday night he does something he hasn’t done in four years. He goes out, goes to Scandals and picks up a pretty little thing, pale and pretty in his mid-twenties, and fucks him against a bathroom wall. 

That’ll fix it, right? Because getting off to his sixteen year old foster kid’s wet dreams surely just means his own backlog of sexual frustration has hit maximum capacity, and getting laid - that’s the answer. 

That has to be the answer. 

 

sixteen.  
kurt

The Dalton Academy Warblers make it to Nationals. 

Kurt comes home the weekend after they get the competition information and itinerary bursting at the seams with excitement. 

“You’ll come, right?” Kurt asks, eyes wide. He can’t imagine this without Blaine. 

“Kurt!” Blaine shakes his head, grinning. “Do you think I’d miss it? Not a chance. I’ll be there, front row. Hell, I might try to put my old uniform on and sneak on stage with you.” 

“Blaine!” Kurt narrows his eyes. “I will not share my spotlight with you. Don’t even joke about it.” 

“Spotlight?” 

Right. That’s the other bit of news Kurt has. He bites his lip and beams. “I have a solo. Well - not a solo, it’s a duet, but it’s half a solo.” 

“Kurt, that is amazing.” Blaine grabs him and pulls him in for a tight hug. “You are going to be amazing.” 

* 

Kurt _is_ amazing. All of the Warblers are, but Kurt shines. He’s not afraid to admit it, and if he’d had any doubts the thunderous applause and the way the audience shoots to their feet would have reassured him. 

Their second number falls a little flatter, though, and they just can’t quite compare to some of the other groups. They land a respectable six in the top ten, good enough to walk out with their heads held high but not so good that it turns into a group celebration.

Kurt doesn’t even mind. 

He’d spent the previous night enduring the Warbler version of club bonding. He likes his fellow Warblers well enough but he finds that he has no desire to spend another night with them. Most of them were more interested in seeing if there was good porn on the tv menu than actually appreciating the city they were in. 

Blaine has a room in the same hotel, a nice upgraded suite with a double bed and a couch. The chaperone says he doesn’t mind if Kurt moves there, and Kurt considers a night on the couch very much worth not having to share the bathroom with four guys that tease him for his haircare and skincare routine, leave facial hair in the sink without cleaning it off, and forget to flush the toilet. 

Teenage boys are disgusting. But Blaine is a perfect gentleman when it comes to sharing a room. Kurt hadn’t even waited to move his suitcase, he’d done it before they’d left for the competition. 

“So can I steal you for dinner?” Blaine asks once Kurt emerges from backstage. “Or did you have plans with the guys?” 

He gestures to the throng of blazer-clad boys shouting and generally being undignified, letting loose after a day of being well behaved models of the Dalton man. 

“Dinner, yes, please. I’m starving and I’m going to choke Wes with his gavel if I have to listen to him belt out Minnelli one more time. Can we go back to Serendipity?” Kurt asks, already envisioning the frozen hot chocolate as a perfect indulge. 

“Nope,” Blaine says. “I was thinking something a bit more... celebratory.”

Kurt is intrigued. “Where are we going?” 

“It’s a surprise,” Blaine says. “But first we’re going back to the hotel room to change. We both need something a little classier for this dinner.” 

* 

Those are the magic words for Kurt. He’s already mapped through and tossed out three possible outfit combinations by the time they’re back the room. 

“How fancy?” Kurt asks, digging through his suitcase and the two garment bags he’d also brought. 

“Go crazy. You won’t look out of place, trust me,” Blaine says. 

Kurt believes him. That’s another reason he can’t wait to be in New York. He hates standing out so much in Ohio. He doesn’t hate it enough to stop expressing himself, especially not now that his chances to are so limited by the Dalton uniform, but he wants his style to be appreciated and not met with disgusted confusion.

It takes Blaine much less time to get ready. He comes out of the bathroom fully shaved, smelling spicy-sweet like the cologne that Kurt enjoys so much. His hair isn’t done yet, though. Tousled, still dripping ringlets fall across his forehead. He has a hand towel over one shoulder and a pot of his favorite hair gel in his hand. 

He’s let Kurt do his hair a couple of times. Kurt wonders if he would again now. His chest goes funny, stomach weird and light and flippy when he thinks and brushing his fingers through damp curls. 

“All yours,” Blaine says, gesturing to the bathroom. Kurt jumps, then feels guilty, like he’d been caught staring. “I’ll do my hair out here to give you more time. I know your routine takes a while.” 

“Thanks,” Kurt says, voice a little higher than normal, grabbing the clothes he’d decided on. 

* 

“Blaine...” Kurt gasps, settling into his chair. His eyes are glued to the cityscape outside. The lights of New York City glitter against the inky blackness of the sky. “This is amazing.” 

“Yeah?” Blaine asks. 

“This is so...” When Kurt looks over at him, Blaine seems impossibly proud of himself. “This is perfect.” 

“You deserved something special after today,” Blaine says. He reaches across the table and squeezes Kurt’s hand. 

Kurt swallows hard and looks down at Blaine’s hand on his. Blaine’s nails are neatly trimmed down to bluntness, rough with guitar calluses. A tingle runs through him and he pulls his hand back. 

The waiter approaches, giving them both a polite smile. “What can I start you off with? We’ve got a great selection of appetizers. I highly recommend the mussels, or the scallops if the garlic sauce on the mussels is too much for a date night.” 

Kurt’s mouth drops open slightly. Blaine is flustered but recovers more quickly. “We’ll just do the lettuce wraps to begin with.”

Date. The waiter thought they were on a date. Though he hasn’t said a word, Kurt still blushes hotly. Though as he looks around he does realize that the tables around them seem to mostly be filled with couples. 

Kurt finally meets his eyes. “He thought we were on a date?” 

Blaine shrugs, looking - nervous? Is he nervous? “I guess so? I mean - you do look good tonight, Kurt. Not... uh. Not your age.” 

“Really?” Kurt grins, not hiding his happiness at the compliment very well though he does try. “Is this the kind of place you’d bring someone on a date?” 

“Kurt-” Blaine starts to say something and then stops, like he’s considering it. “Yeah, I guess so. It could be pretty romantic. With the right person.” 

Kurt looks out at the view again and tries to imagine himself here, but a few years older, on a date. He’d be wearing something a little more adult, designer labels and the fashions he can’t afford on his allowance budget, and he’d be sitting across from a man - a well dressed, handsome man. One that would hold his hand and look at him with warm, sweet eyes, one that... 

One that probably wouldn’t look half as gorgeous as Blaine does right now. Kurt stares down at the menu, afraid that thought might be written in neon on his pupils. 

* 

It’s just past two in the morning when something wakes Kurt up. 

He’s not sure what, at first. He’s comfortable on the pull-out couch, and the room isn’t too warm or too cold, but just as he starts to drift off again he’s pulled back from sleep. 

This time he realizes that it’s a noise. He closes his eyes and listens hard to - what is it? A rustling? Soft, muted... 

And something else. 

He sits up, looking toward the doorway between the living room and the bedroom of the suite. It’s Blaine that he’s hearing, he’s sure, but he’s not sure what Blaine is doing. 

At least not until another sound catches his ear, something stifled almost as soon as it starts but not quite soon enough for Kurt to miss it. 

A moan. 

Kurt’s fingers curl around the edge of the couch. Suddenly the other noise makes more sense. It’s familiar, the sort of thing he never pays attention to but hears often enough. His heart pounds. 

Blaine is jerking off. 

No, he thinks immediately, correcting himself. Blaine wouldn’t. Not with him in the next room. Would he? 

He eases his legs over the side of the bed and stands up. The carpet is plush under his feet, careful footsteps not making a noise. He goes as far as the doorway (cracked open barely four inches) and stands there. 

Either Blaine is having an asthma attack, or he’s jerking off. Kurt raises a hand to his mouth, face heating up. He shouldn’t listen to this. He should get his headphones out of his bag, or just go back to sleep, or... or... something besides listening to this. 

There’s a pause, bedsprings creaking, and Kurt’s heart pounds. Is Blaine getting up? Shit, there’s no way Kurt can make it back into bed quickly _and_ quietly. But Blaine doesn’t come out of the room. There’s another soft squeak of the bed and a snap, then a louder, wetter noise. 

Did he get _lube_? Did Blaine _pack_ lube? 

He can hear the sound of skin moving on skin so much more explicitly now. He’s frozen to the spot, his own cock suddenly and achingly hard. He’s too terrified to do anything about it, though. He can’t do anything but listen as Blaine’s breathing gets a little more frantic and the wet soft slapping noise gets faster and faster and then- 

Then there’s one more sound of movement on the bed and one more muffled gasp. Blaine finished. Blaine _came_. 

Silence, and then movement again. Kurt jerks out of his daze and hurries back over to his bed, rolling under the covers and onto his side just as the door between the rooms opens all the way. 

He looks through barely opened eyes and realizes that Blaine is just standing in the doorway, facing the direction Kurt’s in. He feels like there’s a weight on his chest and he can’t even breathe. Then Blaine sighs and there are footsteps and then the sound of the bathroom door shutting. 

Kurt rolls onto his back, eyes wide open, staring upward. His cock is so hard it hurts but he doesn’t dare touch himself, not even once Blaine is finished in the bathroom and back in his own bed. 

 

**seventeen.**  
 _kurt_

There’s a guy in the music store that won’t stop looking at him. 

“Blaine,” Kurt hisses. “Do I have something on my face?” 

“What?” Blaine looks up from the Katy Perry CD in his hand (and seriously, if he buys another copy Kurt _will_ kill him - and how does he not know that it’s Kurt that hid his first one? and when will he get with the times and just download it to begin with?) to see what Kurt is talking about. He looks in the direction Kurt subtly nods and then a grin breaks out on his face, one of those infuriating ones. “Go talk to him. He’s checking you out.” 

“What? No.” Kurt is shocked. He shakes his head, refusing to believe it. “No, he isn’t.” 

Blaine reaches out and pokes him in the side. “Yes, he is.” 

“Blaine, stop. He is not.” Kurt gives him a patented death glare and squares his shoulders, walking away. 

But five minutes later the guy walks up to him. He’s cute, sort of, in an eager puppy kind of way. 

He’s not really Kurt’s type. 

Kurt isn’t really sure what his type is. 

When he asks for Kurt’s phone number, Kurt hesitates but he sees Blaine giving him a thumb up out of the corner of his eye and somehow that propels him to say yes. 

 

*

“Kurt.” Blaine says. “Kurt!” 

Kurt hears him, but he’s busy typing out a reply to Chandler on his phone. “Hold on,” he murmurs, smiling to himself at how clever he’s being in the response. 

Maybe a little bit of a tease, too, but Chandler is totally eating it up. He decides to text a picture of himself the next time Blaine isn’t in the room. 

Then his phone abruptly disappears. Kurt’s head flies up, reaching for it. He’s a little too late and Blaine is holding it too far away for him to grab it back. He makes another attempt and then huffs out, “Blaine!” in an irritated voice. 

“You’ve been texting all night,” Blaine whines. He’s definitely whining. There’s no other word for it. “I only get you on the weekends. Your school friends can wait, at least until after bunch.” 

“It’s not a school friend,” Kurt says, glaring. 

Blaine almost drops the phone, surprised. “What? Is it - one of your friends from McKinley?” 

“No.” Kurt holds out his hand, gesturing impatiently. “It’s a boy.” 

Blaine frowns. “What?” 

“Blaine. Phone. Please.” He grits out the last word. He really wants to finish replying, yes, but he also wants Blaine to really not look at what he was halfway through typing. He’s seventeen, he doesn’t think Blaine would really be able to say much about it, but it’s still - well, there’s a line between what he wants to share and what he doesn’t. 

“No, I think you should tell me about this boy,” Blaine says. He puts the phone down, still out of Kurt’s reach. He sounds like he’s joking, but... also not. He sounds like he’s _trying_ to sound like he’s joking. 

It leaves Kurt feeling strangely satisfied. “You’ve seen him. He’s the guy from the music store last weekend. His name is Chandler.” 

“Chandler,” Blaine repeats. “Okay. So - this is who you’ve been texting nonstop all weekend?” 

“Yes.” Kurt makes another gesture for his phone, and Blaine hands it back this time. “I... we have a date. Next Friday night.” 

He hadn’t been planning on telling Blaine yet. He’d wanted to at least talk to Mercedes about it first. Telling Blaine had seemed strange, somehow... he’s old enough to date, and he knows Blaine wouldn’t tell him he can’t, but still. Strange. 

“Do we need to - um.” Blaine looks around like maybe he can pull the words he’s looking for out of the air. “Do we need to have a talk?” 

“About what?” Kurt is confused. “Blaine, I’m seventeen, I’m more than old enough to date.” 

“No, I mean - about. About sex.” 

“Oh my god Blaine no.” Kurt covers his face with his hands. 

“Do you - I mean. Look, you’re...” 

“Blaine!” Kurt gets up, chair sliding back a few inches across the floor with how fast he moves. “We are not doing this. I’m going to my room.” 

“Kurt-” Blaine calls after him, but Kurt is mortified and completely ignores him. 

* 

The next Friday when Kurt gets home from Dalton there’s a box on his bed. 

He opens it up to find a stack of pamphlets on safe sex, a box of condoms, and a bottle of lube. 

He can’t say he isn’t embarrassed by this, too, but at least it’s better than Blaine trying to talk to him. He picks up the box of condoms and studies it, then opens it and picks up one of the packets. 

He imagines Blaine going into a store and picking these things out... for _him_.

It’s hot. 

He’s come to terms, to a certain extent, with how attractive Blaine is. Overhearing him that night in New York had opened a door that Kurt hasn’t been able to close. 

He tries to tell himself that it’s only because Blaine is the only guy in his life that he spends that much time casually around. He’s seen Blaine shirtless, seen him in workout clothes, in shorts - even in his boxer briefs a couple of times. 

If sometimes when he gets off at night, it’s Blaine that he thinks of - that’s really the only reason why. 

They’re not related, not by blood. It’s weird but it’s not - wrong. That’s what he has to tell himself. And it’s not like anything would ever happen. 

It’s not like Blaine would ever want _him_. 

*

“Kurt, wow, you look...” Blaine steps toward him and then stops, eyes wide, flickering up and down. 

“Is it too much?” Kurt frowns. The black skinny jeans he’s wearing are officially the tightest pair of pants he owns, but he likes the way Chandler just plies him with compliments. 

“I... am honestly not sure if I should let you out of the house like that.” Blaine finally stammers out a reply. “You look - god, Kurt.” 

Kurt’s heart starts to race a little. “So... good?” 

“I’m. I.” Blaine shakes his head like he’s trying to snap himself out of it. “I almost feel bad for Chandler.” 

“Why?” Kurt frowns. 

“Because you are so out of his league.” Blaine say, shaking his head and grinning wryly. 

“What?” Kurt laughs. 

He walks over to the coat rack by the door, grabbing the jacket he’d already set out. It’s army green with buckles all over it, one of his new favorite pieces and he knows it looks good with the jeans and the boots he’s wearing. He’s going for a New York, street tough thing. Chandler seems to like that. 

“One of your buckles is undone, hold on.” Blaine walks over to him and stands close behind him, taking the two ends and clicking them together. He’s close enough for heat to jolt through Kurt, close enough for him to smell raspberry and cologne. 

“Out of his league, hmm?” Kurt asks, voice throatier than he intends. 

He turns a little, only to realize Blaine hasn’t backed away. He’s right there, so close, and Kurt watches his pupils expand and his nostrils flair as he sucks in a breath. When he speaks it feels like his voice curls around Kurt, wraps him up in the warmth of it. His heart races. “Kurt, you know you’re gorgeous.” 

His eyes rake down Kurt’s body and - oh. Wow. 

He jumps when his phone rings in his pocket. Blaine quickly takes a few steps back. 

“It’s Chandler,” Kurt says. “He’s here.” 

He looks at Blaine, suddenly not sure if he should go or not.

Blaine looks back at him. 

Then Blaine says, “Have fun. I’m gonna... go. Work.” and he’s gone. 

*

Halfway through his date with Chandler, Kurt says that he has to go home. 

It’s not Chandler’s fault. Chandler’s a nice guy, but he talks too much and after a while his voice gets grating. He wants to talk about New York and NYADA and fashion and those are all things Kurt should love, but his mind just isn’t there. 

While Chandler prattles on and on Kurt is somewhere else. He’s is back at home, fixated on the way Blaine looked at him. All of those things he assumed were one-sided, all of the time he’s put into convincing himself that it’s not even really a crush he has on Blaine... 

It’s almost as terrifying as it is intriguing, the possibilities that he suddenly can’t unsee from his mind’s eyes. 

 

**seventeen.**  
 _blaine_

When Kurt leaves, Blaine goes to the liquor cabinet and pulls down a bottle of whiskey. 

He stares at it, the bottle half-full. He’s had it for a few years now, a present from the parents of one of his students when their kid got into a top notch musical program because of his tutoring. 

He doesn’t drink often, bad high school experiences and a general knowledge of how much of a lightweight he is keeping him tethered to responsibility. 

Tonight he feels like not caring, though. He opens the bottle and pulls out a juice glass, drops in a couple of ice cubes, and then pours it three-fourths full. After a brief thought he up-ends the bottle and takes a gulp that makes him choke and sputter as it goes down, at least two shots worth. His eyes sting but it’s worth it for the instant path of warmth it carves down his chest. 

Kurt is out tonight on his first date. 

It’ll be the first of many, Blaine is sure. 

And that’s exactly what Kurt deserves. He deserves men trailing after him, telling him how wonderful he is, plying him with compliments and presents and looking at him like he’s the most gorgeous thing in the world. Blaine has watched him grow up from a self-doubting, terrified, defensive kid into a capable teenager on the brink of being an adult. 

He’s not naive about his own influence, either. He’s helped shape Kurt into this person and Kurt depends on him, both emotionally and financially. That’s why what he’s feeling is so wrong. 

Kurt will knock New York back on its heels. Blaine has absolutely no doubts about that. In just a couple of weeks Kurt will have his NYADA audition. In a couple of months he’ll graduate from Dalton. Not long after that he’ll be gone, out of Blaine’s life. Not forever, not unreachable, probably not. Kurt could, if he wanted, though. Once he’s eighteen, Blaine has no control at all over his life. He has less than a parent, less than even a friend, probably. 

He’ll just be... that guy that Kurt lived with while he was in high school. Blaine squeezes his eyes tight, emotions bubbling to the surface too quickly, always too quickly. He picks up the glass of whiskey and takes another painful gulp. 

* 

Blaine is drifting somewhere between maudlin and pissed off when the door opens. 

He should get up, he thinks. He should trudge up to his bedroom and shut the door so Kurt doesn’t see him like this, but he doesn’t. 

He stays on the couch listening to the muted sounds of Kurt talking to someone and then a door closing. 

Did Kurt bring him home? Did he bring him inside? He thinks, imagines for just a minute, listening to Kurt fucking some boy for the first time just a wall away. It makes him feel sick and hot at the same time. 

God, Blaine thinks, he’s so fucked up. He whispers it out loud just to give the words life. “So fucked up.” 

“What?” Kurt asks. Blaine cranes his neck around to see him standing in the doorway to the living room, illuminated by the light on the hallway. It makes him glow. 

“You look like an angel,” Blaine says, voice slurring. “A... um. Confused angel.” 

“Uh huh...” Kurt says slowly. “Are you all right?” 

Blaine looks around. The room tips and tilts. He shakes his head and squints until things stabilize a little bit. Then he remembers that Kurt asked him something to begin with and says, “Uh huh.” 

Kurt rounds the side of the couch and stops when he sees the bottle of whiskey, now well below half, on the table. “You’re drunk.” 

Blaine nods. It feels like he’s moving in jello. “Maybe.” 

“I’d say very.” Kurt sounds amused now, dropping his messenger bag into the chair and sitting down by Blaine. “What’s the occasion?” 

“You,” Blaine says. His mind isn’t quick enough to tell him that he shouldn’t. 

Kurt blinks at him. Kurt has pretty eyes. Kurt has the prettiest eyes. “Pretty.” Blaine reaches out and touches Kurt’s cheek. 

“... Blaine?” 

“Shit.” Blaine lets his hand fall away. He curls up and turns on his side, cheek against the leather of the couch, facing away. “Go away.” 

“Blaine, you’re being really weird.” 

“Go.” He says it more loudly. 

He doesn’t want to see Kurt right now. He doesn’t want to be faced with this... this perverted attraction of his, what he feels for Kurt. 

Because it’s wrong. Kurt wasn’t put in his care for Blaine to turn him into a sexual obsession. 

His breath hitches and he wants to cry because it’s not fair - it’s not fair how he feels, it’s not fair to Kurt or to himself. 

And it hurts. 

Thinking of losing Kurt... thinking of Kurt being with someone else... 

He’s kept it in for a year, shoved it down and away, convinced himself it was nothing, but it hurts. 

Because he’s in love with Kurt. 

* 

Blaine sleeps for a while, he thinks. When he wakes up his stomach is rolling viciously. He makes it to the bathroom just barely in time and spends a good half hour in there. 

Kurt knocks on the door twenty minutes in, glass of water and bottle of headache medicine in hand. “Thought you might want these,” he says quietly, then leaves again. 

When Blaine feels like he can get some distance from the toilet safely he brushes his teeth for a solid five minutes until the disgustingness is gone and then he takes a shower. He feels achy and sick and his head throbs but he doesn’t want to go to sleep covered in this cold sweat. 

After the shower he swipes a towel over his head and then puts on fresh pajama pants, forgoing a shirt entirely. The clock on his nightstand tells him that it’s only half past two. He’s still sitting on the edge of the bed when Kurt walks back in. “Blaine?” 

“Hey. Yeah.” Blaine has to stop and clear his throat. “Thanks for the pills.” 

“You’re scaring me,” Kurt says, blunt in his typical fashion. 

“I don’t even remember what I said,” Blaine admits. He doubts his ability to stay upright much longer so he lays down on the bed, on top of the covers. 

He’s surprised when Kurt crosses the room to sit on the other side of the bed. Kurt doesn’t come in here often - sometimes to look through Blaine’s closet, sometimes to help him pack for a business trip and decide what outfit to wear, but not regularly. 

“I asked you why you were drinking and you said because of me.” 

Blaine laughs and covers his eyes with one hand. “Oh. Right.” 

“So?” Kurt clearly isn’t letting this go. “What does that mean?” 

“Kurt, it’s nothing. I was drunk.” Blaine hopes he’ll buy that but he knows Kurt well enough to know that he won’t. 

Kurt’s hand closes over his wrist, pulling his hand from his face. He’s suddenly much closer than Blaine had expected. It’s startling to see his face right there by Blaine’s, profile just barely visible in the moonlight. “Blaine, stop that.” 

“Kurt, please just go.” Blaine’s heart is pounding. 

Then Kurt gets that look on his face - Blaine doesn’t even need to be able to see it completely to know that look. It’s the expression Kurt wears when he sets his sights on something and he’s not going to give up until he gets it, one way or the other.

Blaine’s stomach rolls in a way that has nothing to do with drinking too much. 

“Kurt, you can’t-” 

Kurt kisses him. On the mouth, a little too hard, just still solid pressure. It’s Blaine’s hand that flies up to cup his cheek and Blaine’s lips part just a little, just enough to close Kurt’s bottom one between them. Kurt starts it but it’s Blaine that makes it a kiss, Blaine that can’t make himself stop kissing. 

He realizes that Kurt is shaking and that’s what breaks through the fog. “Oh, god. Fuck. Kurt.” 

He gets up - not sure where he’s going, just knowing that he can’t stay here. 

“No, wait.” Kurt scrambles after him, grabbing his arm with both hands. “Blaine, don’t.” 

“I can’t do this, Kurt. We can’t do this.” Blaine is shaking his head. “We can’t.” 

Then Kurt asks the last question Blaine would have expected him to. “Why not?” 

*

Nothing happens that night. 

Well, something happens - it’s just not sex. 

What happens is that Blaine gets back into bed and Kurt doesn’t kiss him again but Kurt doesn’t leave, either. 

“You kissed me,” Kurt says. “It was my first kiss that counts.” 

“You didn’t - with Chandler?” Blaine can’t help but ask, because that’s one of the things that had played out in his mind, all the different things Kurt could be doing out there with someone else. 

“No. Just Brittany, back when - well, you remember it. And...” Kurt hesitates. 

“And?” Blaine asks, looking at him curiously. 

“Dave Karofsky. I never told you, but - he kissed me.” 

“Kurt.” Blaine goes cold. “Kurt, why didn’t you tell me?” 

Kurt reaches out and rubs a hand over Blaine’s arm. “It’s okay. I didn’t want to worry you. It was a long time ago, though.” 

Blaine covers Kurt’s hand with his own. “Not that long ago. He didn’t do anything else to you, did he?” 

“No, he didn’t. It’s fine. I’m fine.” Kurt brings his hand down, Blaine’s with it, and then carefully links their fingers together. “I’d rather think about you kissing me than Dave Karofsky.” 

“Kurt, I’m so sorry, I was-” 

“Please don’t,” Kurt says. “Please don’t say you’re sorry. It was... it was an amazing first kiss.” 

“I took that from you.” Blaine feels awful. 

“I gave that to you,” Kurt counters. 

He has no response to that. 

“Kurt, can we just not do this tonight?” Blaine asks, finally. 

“Hungover?” Kurt asks sympathetically. He reaches out to push Blaine’s still damp hair from his forehead. His fingers are cool and they feel nice on Blaine’s skin. He turns in to the touch. 

“Yes.” Blaine sighs and lays down on the bed. “We’ll talk to tomorrow.” 

“Okay,” Kurt says, but he doesn’t move. 

The silence stretches between them and Kurt’s fingers are still in his hair. It feels good and Blaine’s eyes are heavy. Maybe he’s still drunk. 

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep and he doesn’t know what time it is when he wakes up again, but Kurt is still in bed with him. They’re still both exactly as they were but Kurt’s head is resting on his shoulder, one arm across his stomach. 

It feels like a little slice of heaven, the forbidden kind. 

He stays just like that, perfectly still, for as long as he can but there’s a chill in the air and it gets uncomfortable. Blaine doesn’t let himself think too much about it before he nudges Kurt to get under the covers. 

“Blaine?” Kurt murmurs, sleepy and confused. “Do you want me to go?” 

“No,” Blaine says, because he’s already fucked up this much. Tomorrow everything might (will) go to hell, but he’ll let himself have this much. He pulls Kurt back over to him and holds him tightly.


	2. Chapter 2

**first weekend.**  
 _Kurt_

Kurt wakes up first in the morning.

He looks at Blaine, shirtless and asleep, drooling a little against the pillow.

Blaine kissed him, last night. Blaine kissed him and looked at him with something in his eyes that should terrify Kurt, but it doesn’t, it just leaves him slightly exhilarated that someone can feel so much for him.

Chandler is a distant thought, a non-entity now. Kurt’s world has re-focused on Blaine.

*

He makes breakfast; spanish omelets and bacon and toast and everything else he can think of, because he has to do something until Blaine wakes up and comes downstairs. He’s contemplating French toast when he hears the shower start overhead.

“Some of it’s cold,” Kurt says, twenty minutes later when Blaine emerges dressed in his comfortable weekend clothes - jeans and a t-shirt - with hair still wet and stubble on his face.

It makes him look younger, and not very Blaine-like, not until he sighs a familiar bone-deep sigh of relief at his first sip of coffee, sits down primly at the stool, checks his phone and puts it aside like he always does.

“Thank you, Kurt,” he says softly, taking the plate of food Kurt gives him and then staring down at it.

“... I hope you’re hungry.” Kurt tries to make light of the fact that he made enough food to feed a small army, but the joke falls a little flat. “Also, you’re going to need to go grocery shopping soon.”

“I mostly eat out when you aren’t around, anyway,” Blaine admits. “What kind of sauce is this on the pancakes?”

“You had strawberries and blueberries so I made a compote.” Small talk is safe. Small talk is good. He should really stick to the small talk. But... “Can we talk?”

Blaine sighs and puts his fork down. His eyes close briefly. “It’s too early for this.”

“Blaine, it’s almost eleven,” Kurt points out. “Can I just - I want to say something. Please.”

Blaine nods slowly, but the expression on his face begs Kurt not to.

Kurt ignores it. He’s been rehearsing this in his head all morning. “I’m seventeen. I’m old enough to know what I want. And you’re - you’re the most important person in my life. I want you and I’m, I know, I know you’re going to try and talk me out of this, or make yourself feel awful about it, but I know you want me, too.”

“Kurt, you’ve... never even had a boyfriend,” Blaine says. “Ignoring all of the other - the complications. You and I aren’t just two people that met on the street. I’m your... Kurt, I’m your _parent_.”

“Foster parent,” Kurt quickly corrects. “We’re not related, Blaine. You didn’t raise me.”

“I did, the last few years.”

“You _helped_ me, but you didn’t raise me.” Kurt is defiant on this issue.

“Could you have really made it on your own at thirteen?” Blaine shakes his head. “I raised you, at least a little bit.”

“Fine, but you raised me to be confident and accept myself and accept what I want and you taught me that it’s not wrong to feel what I feel.”

“Kurt, I taught you that it’s not wrong to be gay. That’s not the same thing,” Blaine argues.

Kurt only has one card left to play. “Do you love me?”

Blaine is stricken. All the color fades from his face and he looks so sick that Kurt almost wishes he could take it back. His eyes go red and watery. “Kurt, don’t.”

He always cries so easily. Kurt has seen him tear up at sad movies, at those commercials with puppies and kitties being abused, at weddings and graduations. He’s never seen Blaine cry for himself before, though. It’s unexpectedly painful, like a shock to his system.

This isn’t a game. Whatever Blaine is feeling, whatever Kurt feels, what is between them - it isn’t a game and it’s changing everything.

Kurt gets off of his own seat and walks around the counter to where Blaine is, reaching for his hand. What he really wants to do is wrap his arms around Blaine and just hold him, be held, but he’s not sure if Blaine wants that.

“Fine. You don’t have to say it. But please stop hating yourself for it, because nothing you could do to me would be something I don’t want,” Kurt says softly.

Blaine looks at him and Kurt can tell that Blaine wants to believe it so badly. “What if I break your heart?”

Kurt reaches up and wipes one of Blaine’s tears away. “You won’t. But if you do, sometimes - sometimes hearts get broken. I never thought you’d even want me.”

“You’ve... thought about it?” Blaine asks.

“Oh, god, yes.” Kurt laughs. “Yes. So much. This isn’t just you, okay? Last night I left my date with Chandler because I was bored and frustrated and I just kept thinking about you.”

“It’s so stupid to think we could be-” Blaine shakes his head. “It just wouldn’t work.”

“Blaine, what is the worst thing that could happen? I’m seventeen. Foster care wouldn’t take me away, I’d just be an independent. And Blaine, I know you. You aren’t spiteful. You go out of your way to help old ladies across the street and you buy more girl scout cookies than we could ever eat just because you never want to say no to little kids. Your last office manager was embezzling from you and you still let her go with a severance package instead of pressing charges, because she said she did it to pay for her son to go to rehab. I _trust_ you, Blaine. If something bad happens - would you really take away the college money?”

“No, never.” Blaine’s voice is thick with the tears he’s holding back now “Kurt, I would never do that.”

“I’ll be eighteen in a month, Blaine. A month. I am old enough to date anyone I want, and I want you.” Kurt takes a deep breath once he’s said his piece. He has nothing else left. If Blaine says no, if Blaine turns him down, it will hurt like fuck and there’s nothing he can do.

He’s almost expecting it, though. He’s tense, preparing for the worst possible reaction he could get, steeling himself for it.

What he gets is a quiet, “Okay,” and Blaine’s hand gripping his more tightly.

“Really?” Kurt doesn’t dare breathe just yet, afraid he’ll break the spell, whatever magic is making Blaine not bitterly reject him.

But then Blaine is smiling, just a little bit, and nodding. “You really think I can say no to that face?”

“Good,” Kurt says, relaxing and remembering how to breathe again. “Good. Then you can take me out on a real first date, because last night was - well, he tried. Just not very well. When I said I wanted cheesecake he actually told me that was fine if we put it on my half of the bill. I’m sure he expected me to positively swoon but I’m afraid at this juncture I’m going to need more than cheesy come ons via text message if he wants to compete with this hot older guy I’m into.”

Blaine’s grip on his hands shift, turning them palm to palm. “I don’t know, I don’t think he should change that method very much. I don’t really want competition. I clearly don’t handle it well.”

Kurt steps in closer. “You won’t have to handle it again.” 

There’s a tiny smile on Blaine’s face. It’s captivating. He takes another step in, as close as he can be without actually being on Blaine’s lap. Blaine looks at him, appraising. Kurt has no idea what Blaine is thinking in this moment, what he sees on Kurt’s face or what’s going on in his head. 

“Will you kiss me now?” Kurt asks, because he’s only had one hint of how nice kissing could really be and he wants more. 

“No,” Blaine says. “You should kiss me.” 

That’s even better. 

* 

Kissing is amazing. 

It’s better than amazing, because it’s not just lips and tongue, not like he’d thought. 

Kissing is in the way Blaine’s hands are on him (one on his back, the other cupping his cheek or playing in his hair) and the way his own have free license to roam over Blaine. He sticks to safe areas - shoulders, biceps, once dropping both hands down to grasp his waist when Blaine playfully acts like he’s pulling away. Kissing is in the soft noises they’re trading back and forth, the give and take, the way it’s almost a game. 

Blaine’s phone rings and he pulls back with a wet sound that seems loud to Kurt’s ears, loud enough to make him blush. Blaine looks - he looks like he’s been making out with someone. His lips are damp and red and swollen and his hair is mussed. Kurt watches him dig his phone out of his pocket and answer it, smiling when Blaine rubs his fingers over his lips and then grins wryly at Kurt. Kurt’s are tingling, too. 

From _making out_. With _Blaine_.

He almost wants to leave the room just so he can jump up and down for a few minutes. He’s so busy trying to compose himself that he doesn’t even listen to what Blaine is saying right until the end of the conversation. 

“You’re sure? There’s nothing- no one else can- yeah, okay, give me like, give me thirty minutes?” Blaine says, and then hangs up. He sighs and looks at Kurt. “I have to go in for a while. Amy’s kid has the flu and she has a guitar lesson this afternoon. She tried to reschedule and the mom went off on her.” 

“But...” Kurt frowns. “You have to?” 

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Blaine reaches up to rub his knuckles along Kurt’s jaw. “I’ll be back soon.” 

* 

Kurt does the dishes while Blaine’s upstairs changing, saving what can be salvaged for later of the food and trashing the rest. 

When Blaine comes back down, he’s in normal clothes with his hair slicked back, face clean shaven. “You look younger than me,” Kurt says, smiling. 

Blaine sticks his tongue out. 

Kurt copies him. “And I’m the young one in this - this relationship?” 

He tries not to smile when he says it, but it knocks them both for a loop. 

 

**first weekend.**  
 _Blaine_

He stays at the studio for almost three hours. 

The first hour he’s giving a lesson. 

The second he’s doing paperwork. 

The third he’s just procrastinating because he doesn’t want to go home. 

Well, not that he doesn’t, he’s just afraid to. Because Kurt is there, and he doesn’t know what Kurt will expect, but he’s pretty sure Kurt thinks that Blaine has a lot of answers to this whole situation that Blaine knows he doesn’t have at all. 

Blaine has no idea what he’s doing. He spent twenty minutes making out with his teenage foster son in their kitchen and then he’d just - escaped. 

He’d been relieved when the phone had rung. He hadn’t wanted to stay and deal with the aftermath, with Kurt’s expectant eyes on him. 

It’s not just Kurt’s age. It’s that Blaine hasn’t dated _anyone_ in almost five years. He doesn’t know if he even remembers how to be someone’s boyfriend. He certainly doesn’t know how to be someone’s first boyfriend. 

He remembers his own - Sebastian, back at Dalton. He remembers how nice it felt to be pursued and how Sebastian said all the right things until it counted. He remembers finding Sebastian in the Dalton lounge making out with a freshman and how crushing it was, and he hadn’t even been in love with Sebastian. 

Whatever it is between himself and Kurt is already stronger, already more. 

And even if the best case scenario becomes reality, if the relationship is perfect, it still has an expiration date because at the end of the summer Kurt is going to college in New York. He has his NYADA audition coming up, and Blaine made sure he had fallback options in the city just in case that didn’t work out. He’s already been accepted to NYU and he’s waiting to hear back from Parsons. 

Blaine’s guidance is what helped him ensure that the road to the city of Kurt’s dreams was going to be easy to travel and now he’s realizing what it will mean to him to watch Kurt walk away if they take this last step. 

The minutes on the clock tick by as he stares at his desk, lost in his own thoughts. He jumps when his phone buzzes with a text message, Kurt wanting to know where he is. 

Blaine’s heart pounds, anxiety freezing him up. He picks up his phone but he doesn’t answer the text. 

Instead he dials a different number. 

Cooper, for once, answers his phone. It takes six rings, but he answers. “Blainey!” 

“Hey, Coop.” Blaine relaxes a fraction just hearing the familiar voice. “You got a minute?” 

“For you? Maybe even two. But definitely not more than three, I’m on my way to meet this smoking hot chick for drinks. You don’t keep double d’s waiting, Blaine. You just don’t.”

“You do remember that I’m gay, right? That advice might be better suited to someone that actually likes breasts.” 

“Oh, right. Well. What’s going on?” Cooper asks. 

“I need...” Blaine can’t believe he’s about to say this. “Relationship advice.” 

He has to wait for Cooper to get his uncontrolled laughter reigned in. “Blainers! B! Buddy! Are you finally getting some?” 

“How do you know I haven’t been all along?” Blaine takes a moment to be offended. “But - not yet - I mean. Maybe. I just.” 

“What’s the matter, squirt?” Cooper coaxes him. “Is he ugly? Because, you know, if he’s good enough in bed-” 

“He’s not.” Blaine has to laugh. Sometimes with Cooper that’s all you can do. “No, he’s very - attractive. He’s good looking. He’s just young.” 

“Oh, that’s all? Robbing the cradle, B?” 

“Yeah, he’s.” Blaine can’t bring himself to tell Cooper, because telling Cooper ensures his parents will know, and he’s not ready for that. He fibs and says, “He’s in college.” 

“So we’re talking - decade age difference?” 

“Um. About that.” It’s actually more like a decade and a half and, fuck, Blaine shouldn’t have done that math. “Maybe a little more.” 

“You’re still a baby yourself, B, so he can’t be that young. Hollywood is known for it’s epic generation gap romances. Michael and Catherine? Harrison and Calista? Woody and Soon-yi?” Cooper names them off. “You’re in good company. Besides, Kurt is what, sixteen now? He’s old enough to kick out of the house for a few hours so you can go wild.” 

“Seventeen, almost eighteen,” Blaine says, answering automatically. 

“Oh, wow! That old, huh? I should send him a present. What does he like? Oh, maybe I should just come visit, and bring it on person!” 

“No!” Blaine says, firmly. He remembers Kurt’s crush. Then he realizes there’s not actually that much reason for such an emphatic reaction and tries to backtrack. “No, I mean. He’s focusing a lot of finals and studying and college right now. Maybe we’ll come out to Los Angeles over the summer, though. He’s never been.” 

He smiles on instinct when he thinks about taking Kurt somewhere he’s never seen before. 

He loves being able to witness Kurt’s firsts. 

His heart races when he imagines all the other firsts he might be able to give Kurt now; not the heartbreak, but the good ones. 

In New York, Kurt might not find the right kind of guys. He might end up with someone that would hurt him, or someone inexperienced that can’t show him what sex can be when it’s really good. He might end up with the kind of guy that would use him or take advantage of him.

Blaine can make sure that Kurt has a first time with someone that really wants to worship him and teach him. Maybe it’s okay if Kurt is the one that breaks his heart, because Blaine will be devastated by it but somehow when he looks at the situation with that kind of perspective it seems worth it. 

“Awesome, absolutely. I can give you guys a set tour. Speaking of set-” Cooper launches into a rambling story that Blaine immediately tunes out. He puts it on speaker and looks down at his phone again, where Kurt has sent another message. It reads _Blaine? Are you okay?_

His stomach clenches when he imagines Kurt saying saying it, and how uncertain he must be feeling right now. It’s now been close to four hours, when Blaine had said he’d only been gone for one. 

He types back, _On my way home. :) I’ll pick up dinner?_

Kurt’s response is almost instant. _Okay :)_

“Hey, Coop? I gotta go.” Blaine says, smiling to himself. He hangs up before Cooper even has a chance to respond. 

* 

He puts down the bags of takeout when he walks in the door and grabs Kurt, turning him against the wall and kissing him. 

Kurt gasps, fingers flexing against Blaine’s shoulder. “I - wow.” 

Blaine cups his face and kisses him again, more gently. “I missed you. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” 

“No.” Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine and pulls him in for a hug. “No, I haven’t.” 

“Good.” Blaine smiles into the hug. “Then come have dinner with me, and let me kiss you some more after.” 

**first goodbye.**  
 _Kurt_

Kurt sleeps in his own bed that night, but only after a drawn out goodnight in his doorway. Blaine hadn’t pressed for anything more. His hands hadn’t even wandered as much as they had that morning. 

Kurt is glad. He doesn’t want more, not yet, but he hadn’t really wanted the kissing to stop either. 

He lays in bed flushed and excited, mind racing far too much to even begin to contemplate sleep. He rolls onto his side, clutching his pillow. 

He’s in love. 

* 

Kurt has plans the next morning. 

“I forgot,” he tells Mercedes. “I’m sorry. Next weekend?” 

But she’s never been one to let him off the hook that easily. “No excuses, white boy. I’ve barely seen you since you started at that fancy school. Is anyone dead or bleeding?” 

“No-” 

“Then I’ll be there in half an hour so get to doing that hair.” She hangs up before he can argue.

* 

He whines to Blaine, who looks disappointed but ultimately agrees with her. “You don’t get to see your friends much.” 

“But I...” He frowns. 

He just wants to stay here. He just wants to stay with Blaine. 

“Go,” Blaine says gently. He puts a hand on Kurt’s arm and then lets it drop down while he talks until his fingers brush Kurt’s wrist. “Just come back in time for me to see you for a little while before you have to go back to school.” 

Kurt smiles, that familiar melting feeling in his heart. “Of course,” he whispers, catching Blaine’s hand and pulling him in for a kiss. “I - I’ll be back.” 

* 

He is back, but then he’s leaving again, going back to Dalton. 

“I can skip,” he says, head on Blaine’s shoulder. “I can transfer back to McKinley.” 

Blaine laughs. “No, you can’t. Besides, you graduate in a couple of months, you don’t want to switch schools now.” 

“Do you think they’d let me graduate early?” 

“Kurt.” Blaine pushes him back. He’s smiling fondly, smiling like he can’t stop smiling. Kurt gets that feeling. He’s the same way. “Go, learn lots of things, get smarter, sing some pretty songs, and come back home to me next weekend.” 

His heart leaps into his chest. “Can I call you?” 

“You can always call me,” Blaine says. “That hasn’t changed. Nothing has changed.” 

“Except that I can do this...” Kurt leans in and nips at Blaine’s lower lip. 

Blaine groans - that’s new. New, and hot. “You have to go now,” he says. “Or I’m not going to let you.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t let me.” Kurt feigns innocence. 

He likes what that does to Blaine. He likes the way Blaine groans again and his pupils go bigger and he breathes a little harder. He wants to know what else it does to him but he’s not brave enough to find out. 

Not yet, anyway. 

 

**first goodbye.**  
 _Blaine_

Blaine tries to throw himself into work, but he’s useless. 

He can’t think about anything but Kurt’s car driving away. 

He can’t think about anything but that last kiss, the look on Kurt’s face. 

He’s such an idiot for going along with this. Not just along with it, but full speed ahead with it; but, fuck, he can’t remember the last time he smiled so much. 

Kurt makes him smile. Kurt makes him _happy._

And he makes Kurt happy, too. 

Maybe it’ll fade, later. Maybe the newness will wear off. Maybe Kurt will get bored with him, maybe there are a million reasons it won’t work out. 

But maybe it’s been too long since Blaine took a chance on something. 

* 

He has leftovers for dinner and watches television on the couch, pretending like he isn’t counting down how long it takes Kurt to drive to Westerville and trying to place in his mind where Kurt would be at any given moment. 

By his own reckoning, Kurt either breaks the speed limit to get there or calls Blaine the second he’s out of his car. 

“I miss you,” Blaine says, childishly indulgent with his own feelings right now. He knows it won’t take long for Kurt to stop being awed by the fact that when Blaine takes his filter away most of what he says is shamelessly complimentary toward Kurt, so he wants to enjoy it while it still has some shock value. “I changed my mind. You can drop out of school.” 

“Why, Mr. Anderson, how your tune has changed.” 

“Yes, well, I’m suddenly bereft of a cuddle partner. This couch is too big and lonely.” 

“You need a dog,” Kurt says. 

“I need you to come home.” 

“I need you to not say that, because if you say it one more time I really will.” Kurt’s voice drops into a whisper, most likely just to not be overheard because he sounds like he’s walking through a hallway now. 

But it doesn’t really matter what the reason is. Fuck, that low voice does things to Blaine. His hand drifts to the front of his pants, rubbing lightly through them. 

“Blaine?” Kurt says. “Still with me?” 

His fingers tighten around himself. Is it impolite to jerk off to your teenage boyfriend before you’ve even seen him shirtless? 

Well, he has seen Kurt shirtless, but not in years. He was still in that pudgy phase, pink-cheeked and shorter. He hasn’t seen Kurt now, not since he’s gotten those biceps that Blaine just wants to bite, since he’s gotten tall - taller than Blaine now - and learned how to dress himself in clothes that make his torso look like it goes on forever... 

“Blaine!” Kurt says it again, laughing. “Is television really that much more interesting than talking to me? I think I’m offended.”

“No,” Blaine says, even as his thumb pops open the button on his pants. “God, Kurt, no.” 

 

**first date.**  
 _Kurt_

They do get the first date Kurt had always imagined. It comes two weeks later, a town away because Lima just doesn’t have a decent enough theater. 

Blaine takes him to a show and makes reservations at a restaurant they’ve never been to. Kurt dresses in his favorite outfit, the sheer maroon shirt that makes his skin look so pale and jeans that Blaine doesn’t hesitate to show his appreciation of. 

“It’s always driven me crazy when you wore those,” Blaine admits in the car. He keeps glancing over and it makes Kurt feel overheated to imagine what Blaine might be thinking. 

“Wow,” he says. “I wish I’d known.” 

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Did you really not? I couldn’t stop staring at your ass.” 

Kurt preens, then pulls down the sun visor to check his hair in the mirror. 

* 

Kurt is braver under the cover of dimmed theater lights, guiding Blaine’s hand to his thigh. 

They’re watching The Sound of Music - one of Blaine’s favorites, enough so that Kurt has seen the production a few times already. He’s glad, because he barely catches a word of it this time. 

Blaine doesn’t try anything, not really, but he leaves his hand where Kurt puts it and it’s enough to have Kurt needing a moment once the show is over before he can get to his feet. 

And Blaine, the bastard, knows. “Here,” he says, handing Kurt his jacket. “Carry this for me?” 

Kurt isn’t sure if he should be grateful or if he should want to kill him. 

* 

“This is amazing,” Kurt says. 

“The food? Good.” Blaine smiles, pleased. 

“Not just that. Everything. It’s perfect, Blaine.” Kurt scoops up another bite of cheesecake onto his fork. He offers it to Blaine impulsively, happy when Blaine goes along with it. “Some of the Warblers know I have a - um. I’m dating someone.” 

“You can say it,” Blaine says. “If you want to.” 

Of course he caught that, of course he did. 

“Boyfriend?” Kurt tries not to go too high pitched but he can’t actually help it sometimes. “That’s not too - juvenile?” 

“Kurt, no. We’re dating. I’d... I’d like to call you my boyfriend.” Blaine reaches over the table for his hand. “Maybe to very select audiences right now.” 

There’s a conversation there, a conversation that they need to have, but they don’t have it yet. 

 

**first date.**  
 _Blaine_

The whole drive long he teases Kurt about getting a kiss goodnight at the front door. 

It turns into Kurt pressing him against the front door, hands in Blaine’s back pocket. 

“Are you sure you didn’t sneak some wine with dinner?” Blaine gasps. It’s a struggle to keep his hips a safe distance from Kurt, a struggle to not take this to what is - for him - the next stage. 

“Can’t I just be drunk on you?” Kurt asks, pulling back. “Blaine, let’s go inside.” 

“Kurt, I’m not sure I need to be alone in a place full of horizontal surfaces with you right now.” Blaine sinks his fingers into Kurt’s hair and then slides them down to the back of his neck, reeling him in for another kiss. 

Kurt makes an absolutely wrecked sound and whines into Blaine’s mouth. “Inside,” he says, just enough of an order to make Blaine go weak in the knees. 

* 

Kurt is bossy. 

This isn’t news to Blaine, this isn’t new. 

What it is: hot. Hot as fuck. 

They’re on the couch, shedding layers (cardigan and vest for Blaine; jacket and overshirt for Kurt) and pressing into each other. 

Blaine has given up propriety in favor of just following Kurt’s cues. When Kurt grinds down, Blaine just - he lets him, as hard as it is to stay still, he lets Kurt do what Kurt wants because that’s the way he feels most comfortable. 

And when Kurt sits up and tumbles backwards, against the opposite arm of the couch, Blaine just stays still and tries to catch his breath again. 

“You okay?” He asks quietly. 

Kurt’s face is bright red and he’s having more of a struggle with oxygen intake than Blaine. “I’m just-” 

“Kurt?” Blaine sits up, worried. 

“Close,” Kurt blurts out. “I’m really close. Still. And I don’t-” 

“Kurt, do you want to - I can go, leave the room, if you need to. Um. Finish.” Blaine offers carefully. “Or I can...” 

“You,” Kurt says, eyes wide. “Can you-” 

He knows that the words are more of a problem for Kurt than the actions, so he doesn’t make Kurt say it. He leans forward very carefully, kissing Kurt with extreme gentleness, while his hand presses between Kurt’s legs to feel the solid shape of his erection. 

It only takes a couple of strokes through his pants before Kurt is crying out, sinking forward. Blaine feels the heat and the pulse-pulse-pulse of Kurt’s orgasm against his palm. He wishes it were in his mouth, flooding against his tongue so he could taste it, swallow it all down, but he keeps that fantasy locked away. 

Right now, this is enough. 

 

**first (mutual) time.**  
 _Blaine_

It doesn’t take long for Kurt to be on board with sex, at least in some capacity. Every weekend that Kurt is home they take another step closer to that place. 

He has splendid timing, too; the weekend of Kurt’s eighteenth birthday, not knowing that Blaine has had two plane tickets for New York purchased for months already. He gets home to find his bags already packed and waiting by the door, ticket printout on top with a sticky gift bow attacked. 

“Blaine?” Kurt turns around, getting it though it hasn’t really sunken in yet. 

“Happy birthday,” Blaine says, holding out his arms. 

Kurt flies into them, bouncing and giddy and smothering Blaine’s face in kisses. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you.” 

“Our flight leaves in two hours, so we need to head to the airport soon,” Blaine tells him. “I know I broke the cardinal rule of packing for you, but if I’ve left out anything major...” 

“We can just go shopping?” Kurt kisses him again, messy with a too-big smile. 

“Exactly,” Blaine says. 

* 

They talk on the plane. 

They haven’t had this talk yet. It’s been long overdue, and Blaine knows it. 

“We’re going apartment hunting on Monday,” Blaine says. “For you.” 

So far they’ve managed to completely avoid talking about the future like this, but Blaine had already decided on it before he and Kurt got together. NYADA doesn’t do student housing. He knows Kurt’s been looking at places online, with one of his friends from McKinley that he’s kept in touch with. 

Kurt doesn’t say anything. 

“Rachel can still live with you, if you want. I found some two-bedrooms, if her dads are willing to split the rent like that.” 

“But...” Kurt starts, and then stops. He looks to the side, out the airplane window. 

“Kurt, you’re still going to New York,” Blaine says. He’s kind, but firm. 

“I know,” Kurt says. “Of course I am.” 

“I thought you’d be happy.” Blaine reaches for his hand. Kurt takes it gratefully. 

“Are you? Happy? About me leaving?” Kurt asks. 

“I’m...” Blaine treads carefully. “I want this for this.” 

“But are you happy?” 

He knows what Kurt is looking for, but that kind of honesty doesn’t come easily to him. It might have, once, but he’s learned a few lessons over the years. 

He thinks about the other thing, the thing he hasn’t mentioned to Kurt yet, because he needs to make sure that Kurt really wants this, too. He needs to make sure that he isn’t weighing Kurt down with his own feelings imposed over Kurt’s. 

If what Kurt needs is for Blaine to wear his heart on his sleeve, Blaine will do it, though. “Kurt, I already miss you, and you won’t be gone for another couple of months.” 

Kurt leans over and kisses him. Blaine doesn’t expect it, but as soon as Kurt’s mouth is on his he realizes how much he needed it. 

*

It’s late by the time their plane arrives, and even later when they pile out of the cab with their luggage and into the hotel lobby. 

He can tell Kurt is tired and somehow just the act of traveling has left Blaine exhausted, too. 

“I’m going to change first,” Blaine says, grabbing his bag and heading into the bathroom. 

The room has two double beds. Blaine isn’t sure if Kurt will want to sleep in the bed with him or not, so he gives Kurt the chance to decide without calling attention to it. 

When he comes back out, their bags are on one bed, piled obviously so that there’s no room for a person in it, and Kurt is in the other. 

Blaine smiles, warmth settling across his chest. Kurt is staring at his tablet computer, smiling just a tiny little bit, his nervous smile. He’s trying very hard to look casual and Blaine disregards it entirely, taking the computer out of his hands and then bouncing onto the bed. 

Kurt laughs. “Blaine! Are you five year old?” 

“Maybe.” Blaine straddles him and pushes him into the pillow. “If I were five I’d probably do this-” He licks Kurt on the neck. “-instead of this.” 

He finishes it with a kiss, and then rolls off of Kurt onto his side of the bed. 

“Are we going to...” Kurt still can’t say it without blushing. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t know how much that turns Blaine on. “Fool around?” 

“If you want to. Are you too tired?” Blaine asks, reaching over and turning off the lamp on his side. He settles on the bed on one elbow, facing Kurt. “It doesn’t matter. We can just sleep.” 

“I...” Kurt starts, and then stops. He turns his own light off, too. There’s still some illumination from the city outside, enough for them to make out each other’s expressions. “That’s not what you normally sleep in, is it?” 

The question catches Kurt off guard. “No... I usually just sleep in underwear.” 

It’s a lie; he sleeps naked, but he doesn’t think Kurt is quite ready for that. 

“So, you should.” Kurt says it decisively. 

Blaine sits up and strips off his t-shirt, then tugs his shorts off, too. The sheets and blanket around him get kicked down the bed in the process but he leaves them there, stretching out mostly naked and entirely visible to Kurt. 

Kurt doesn’t do anything. 

“You can touch me,” Blaine says. “You don’t have to, but you can.” 

Kurt reaches out with one hand and puts it right in the center of Blaine’s chest. 

“You can take your shirt off, too, if you want.” 

“Not yet,” Kurt says, leaning in and kissing Blaine while his fingers stroke over Blaine’s skin. One of them rubs over a nipple and Blaine gasps. “Oh-” 

“Hm?” Blaine murmurs. 

“I like that. Making you sound like that.” 

“Keep touching me and you’ll hear it again,” Blaine promises. 

Kurt does. He touches, long and slow and thorough, with kisses to match. He touches and it’s such an innocent, unassuming thing - Kurt doesn’t even know what he’s doing to Blaine. He doesn’t know that Blaine is rock hard and straining in his boxer briefs, because his hand never dares to go down that far. 

Eventually he pulls back to take his own shirt off. Blaine would love more than anything to turn the light back on but he knows the darkness afford Kurt some bravery he might not otherwise have, so he doesn’t say anything. 

Kurt’s fingers scratch through the hair beneath Blaine’s belly button, over the soft swell of belly pudge he can’t really get rid of, and Blaine shakes with the effort to hold back. He might have more stamina than a teenager but Kurt’s been touching him for almost an hour and it’s bordering on too much. 

“Can I...” Kurt’s kiss-swollen mouth rubs over the stubble on his jaw. “Can I touch your... cock?” 

He almost comes hearing Kurt say it so hesitantly, so sweetly. 

“Kurt, you can do anything to me you want,” Blaine groans out. 

It’s the absolute truth. If Kurt pulled out a ten inch dildo and said he wanted Blaine on his knees fucking himself on it right now Blaine would just ask fast or slow. He’s not sure anyone has ever unknowingly had so much power of him in bed. 

Kurt hooks one leg over Blaine’s thighs and moves his hand down, palm rubbing firmly over Blaine’s aching hard on. 

“Kurt-” Blaine warns him. “It won’t take much.” 

“Really?” Kurt sounds shocked. “Can I - I can make you come?” 

“I think you’re going to make me come whether you try or not,” Blaine admits. There’s no way he’ll fall asleep without, at the very least, going into the bathroom to jerk off. “Do you want me to take them off?” 

Kurt thinks about it. “Not yet?” 

“Okay.” Blaine isn’t actually disappointed; something about the process being drawn out like this, it’s working for him. “Just - fuck. Like that, Kurt..” 

Kurt rubs up and down again with his palm, steady strokes of pressure that have Blaine arching up into it. He turns his head to the side, tendons in his neck straining, sweat beading his forehead. “Kurt-” He gets out one more warning before he’s fucking up into Kurt’s hand and coming hard with a broken cry. 

He feels Kurt pushing into his hip as he comes down from an orgasm that feels, for a few moments, like it might never end. He’s glad it does though, glad he doesn’t miss Kurt grinding to completion against him. 

Blaine turns and gathers Kurt up and kisses him hard, moaning. “Fuck. That was - _Kurt_.” 

The kisses slow, soften and sweeten as Kurt grows tired. They take turns in the bathroom to clean up, and Blaine gets back into bed wearing just the shorts he’d abandoned before. 

Kurt leaves his shirt off too, and Blaine is glad. He likes that when he settles in behind Kurt and spoons up to him that there’s nothing but skin to skin. 

 

**first (mutual) time.**  
 _Kurt_

Kurt wakes up in the morning to the sound of Blaine coming back in the room. 

The clock on the table tells him that it’s half past ten. “Wow,” he says, turning his face into the pillow and burrowing down for a second before he rolls over. “I slept in.” 

“Yep.” Blaine walks across the room with a tray. “I ordered breakfast, so I was about to wake you up. Glad you got up on your own.” 

Blaine is still mostly naked and the heat spears through Kurt. He’s having breakfast in bed served to him by a gorgeous man whose penis he is going to touch very, very soon. He’s pretty sure this is already going down in the record books as the best eighteenth birthday over. 

* 

After breakfast Blaine makes him shower, despite all attempts Kurt makes to derail the day’s plans and insist that he’d rather spend them in bed. 

They have an appointment with a real estate agent, though, and Blaine won’t be budged. 

The first apartment they look at is further away from NYADA than Blaine thought. The second is a shoebox, which Kurt expects but not for the price they’re asking. 

The third is a one bedroom, a fifth floor apartment in a building with no elevator but it’s across from a subway stop and it has a perfect view of the city, not blocked by any graffiti-filled brick wall or otherwise uninspiring billboard type thing. 

“Do you think you want to be this close quarters to Rachel?” Blaine asks. The real estate agent has left them alone, gone outside to make some calls and give them privacy to discuss. 

Kurt shrugs. “I was thinking... I might not move in with her.” 

“What?” Blaine looks over at him. “You were so excited about it at the beginning of the year.” 

“Yeah, but... if it’s just me... you can visit a lot?” Kurt asks, hoping that the wish isn’t naive. “If you were counting on half of the rent coming from Rachel, I can get a job - I mean, I would have anyway, I think.” 

“You know I want you to concentrate on school,” Blaine says. It sounds like an automatic response, though, and it’s not really what Kurt had wanted him to focus on with that statement. 

“Blaine?” Kurt prompts him when Blaine doesn’t say anything. 

“I - can you give me a second?” Blaine asks. “I need to call someone.” 

He leaves before Kurt can even say anything. 

* 

Ten minutes later, he’s back. 

Kurt is thoroughly confused, because the first thing out of Blaine’s mouth is, “We’re getting this place.” 

“What?” 

“I’ve been working on something. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, and - I’m still not. It could still fall through. But I made a proposal to the music department of the school that we work with, to see if they’d be interested in paying someone to provide in-person tutorials to their teaching crew.” 

“What?” Kurt knows there’s something here but he’s not catching on fast enough, Blaine’s words flying out of his mouth with excitement. 

“Me - I’m going to teach in New York. Part time, it’s only part time - to begin with, at least. I’m going to let someone else run the studio at home, so I can be here at least a week or two a month.” 

“Really?” Kurt has to remind himself to breathe. “Blaine, really?” 

“Yes. I just... I can’t stand the idea of being that far apart from you.” 

“Oh my God, Blaine.” Kurt raises a hand to his mouth. “Really?” 

Blaine laughs. “Yes. _Really._ Are you okay with that?” 

Kurt lunges at Blaine, almost knocking him back. “Yes.” 

“I just... I love you, Kurt.” Blaine’s arms go tight around him. “I don’t want to be apart from you just when we are really getting started. And in New York, we can be... together. No one will think anything about it. No one knows us. I’ll just be your slightly older-” 

“-but devastatingly handsome-” 

“-but devastatingly handsome boyfriend,” Blaine finishes. 

It’s only then that Blaine’s choice of words really sink in. “Blaine.” Kurt smiles so hard that his face hurts. “I love you, too.” 

Blaine has to stand on the tips of his toes to kiss Kurt’s forehead now. “Then are we getting this apartment?” 

“Yes,” Kurt says, taking Blaine’s hands. “I want to live here with you.” 

* 

They sign the paperwork that afternoon. 

They won’t move in for at least three weeks, but Blaine will have meetings lined up to discuss his contract and they don’t want to lose their chance at the place. 

Kurt doesn’t mind the idea of leaving early if Blaine is coming with him. In fact, the idea of starting their life in the city together as soon as possible... sounds close to perfect.


End file.
